


Sawed-off Sanctuary

by Gnashingbumpkins



Category: Columbine - Fandom, Eric Harris - Fandom, True Crime - Fandom
Genre: Columbine, Dylan Klebold - Freeform, Eric Harris - Freeform, Eric Harris/ Reader - Freeform, F/M, Romance, Self Insert, reb and vodka, tcc, wtf am I even doing with my life rn lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:15:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 144,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24184210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gnashingbumpkins/pseuds/Gnashingbumpkins
Summary: abandoning this morbid little pet project for the foreseeable future ✌🏻Eric forms an unlikely bond with a girl at a party neither one of them had even wanted to attend in the first place. Has he finally found the Mallory to his Mickey, or the female embodiment of his complete and utter downfall?
Relationships: Eric Harris/ Dylan Klebold, Eric Harris/ Original Female Character, Eric Harris/Reader, Reb and Vodka - Relationship
Comments: 177
Kudos: 111





	1. The Poser and The Wannabe Cannibal

**Author's Note:**

> I intend to update the story at least once a week until I either finish it or find Jesus, whichever comes first. If you’re offended by the subject matter, nobody is forcing you to read it and you can always click off this page. Before you feel the need to send hate or a condescending, holier-than-thou lecture, might I suggest you instead go find something productive to do? Or go ahead and waste your time getting mad at a stranger on the internet. You do you, baby. Otherwise, comments, questions, declarations of undying love and constructive criticism are all more than welcome.

The music blares almost obnoxiously loud as the sea of people around me drink themselves into euphoric oblivion. I’m now on my third plastic cup of cheap booze and the alcohol is beginning to have its desired effect. My friends begin to laugh hysterically at a joke I must have missed over the music.

I bring the cup to my lips and take a long drink, glancing around the room. To our right a couple are kissing and groping one another as fiercely as if their lives depended on it and my friend Laura notices me looking at them. “That must be kinda hard for you to see right now, huh?” She practically has to scream in my ear to be heard above the music.

“What?” I shout back, confused. “Hard for me? No, why would it be?” She offers me a look somewhere between sympathetic and patronizing and I wonder just how we’ve managed to stay friends for as long as we have.

“You know, just cause you and Scott have only been broken up for what? Less than two weeks now? And then he shows up here and gets wasted with his buddies without so much as saying a word to you all night?”

I fight the powerful urge to roll my eyes. “Yeah, I think I’ll manage to survive somehow, thanks, Laura.” I’d told my friends I was fine with our recent break up but they seemed hesitant to believe it, especially her. Scott is one of the most popular guys in school and if Laura is to be believed “the cutest guy on the whole football team.”

They assumed I was secretly heartbroken over our split but it had honestly come as somewhat of a relief to finally end things with him. We were just too different. Things hadn’t been working for a long time. My best friend looks at me like I belong in a padded cell then takes a swig from the bottle in her hand. “If you say so.”

To our left a guy drunkenly falls into a table and jumps back up on the other side, merrily announcing to the group of laughing hyenas next to him that he is unharmed. Directly across from us I see a cheerleader from the year below disappear awkwardly behind a large bookcase, clutching her stomach, presumably to vomit. Classy.

That’s when I feel a pair of eyes on me and I first notice him standing there at the other end of the room. I’ve seen him around before but have never spoken two words to him that I can remember.  
I can’t quite recall his name but it’s on the tip of my tongue.

Ethan?

No.

Derick?

No, that’s not it either...

He’s dressed in an oversized Rammstein shirt, hanging down over a pair of dark blue jeans. He doesn’t appear to be drinking himself but is standing next to a very tall boy swigging vodka directly from the bottle. Skinny with light brown, almost dark blonde hair, cut short. A nice jawline, I observe, good cheekbones.

And he’s still staring, but so am I.  
His expression is unreadable. Inquisitive maybe? And I’ve been looking for too long now. I look away and unable to help myself, glance back again seconds later.

Fuck, he’s cute.

And still looking over here. 

As our eyes lock for the second time he begins to smile, probably now positive that I was staring at him. Fuck. Embarrassed, my eyes dart down into my cup as though it’s suddenly become the most interesting thing in the world.

“Oh God, he’s coming over!” Laura gasps, pulling me back to reality.

“Who?” I ask, though I’m barely registering what she’s saying now, far too busy fighting a now almost overwhelming urge to glance back across the room a third time. Just to see if he’s still looking... 

“Scott! He’s walking over here!” 

Oh joy. My ex-boyfriend is in front of us before I have time to blink and it immediately occurs to me that I am nowhere near drunk enough for this.

“Hey, Lucy! Hey, Laura! How’s it going? You girls enjoying the party?” About as much as I’d enjoy walking into oncoming traffic. Reeking of gin and swaying ever so slightly, it becomes immediately apparent that Scott has handled many a plastic cup himself since he’s arrived.

“Yeah, it’s awesome,” Laura replies enthusiastically with a flip of her long, bottle blonde hair. “Even though they’ll apparently let just anyone in here,” she adds, gesturing with a nod of her head toward the two boys in the corner I’d noticed just seconds before.

Scott glances over his shoulder and eyes the two boys like he had just caught them pissing in his bowl of cornflakes earlier that morning. “Jesus, who let those losers in? You think they’re lost or something?”

He takes another drink, giving him sufficient time to slowly eye my friend up and down before he continues. “But forget about those dorks, what about you, Laura? Damn, you look great!” The poor attempt at provoking jealousy is so blatantly obvious that I almost cringe with embarrassment on his behalf.

“Oh, stop it!” Laura laughs, playfully slapping him on the arm. She’s apparently taking the bait, despite the fact that I’m standing right there.

“Well you do!” Scott’s lips form an almost lecherous grin, his eyes are bloodshot and he’s slurring his words just a little. “What can I say?”

I know what I’d like to say...

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” Laura flirtatiously replies, batting her eyelashes so vigorously they look as though they could take flight at any moment. Christ, just fuck already.

“You two are going to have to excuse me,” I inform them. “I need to go projectile vomit somewhere.”

“Too much to drink?” Laura feigns concern. “I can come to the bathroom with you if you want.”

“No, that’s okay, you stay here. I’d hate to ruin this little love connection you two have going on. You crazy kids have fun. Remember to use a rubber.”

Turning around I hear; “I don’t know what her problem is. She can be such a fucking freak sometimes,” followed by laughter. How very witty, Laura. Oscar Wilde eat your heart out. But I know I’ll probably have to pay for that little parting comment at school on Monday. The idea of being shunned at my usual lunch table suddenly doesn’t seem as horrific an outcome as it previously had.  
  
Seeing as how my other two friends are now deeply engaged in a profound and no doubt fascinating conversation about hair glitter, I decide to venture off on my own. The party is staring to take it out of me. And I’m sure how much longer I can pretend that I want to be here. I down the rest of my drink and crumple the cup in my fist. 

I take another quick look around the room before realizing that I’m hoping to steal another glance at him before I leave. He’s nowhere to be found. The tall guy who was with him is now talking to two other guys, each of whom look at least half a foot shorter than him. Where did he go?

I head for the kitchen. Inside are two guys from the football team. Scott’s friends. I nervously anticipate the dumb comment one of them is bound to make when they see me but each has also been well acquainted with said plastic cups. Busy hotly debating which Hollywood actress would be more skilled in the field of sexual relations they don’t even register my presence as I pass by. I dump my cup in the trash can by the door, then after exiting through patio doors that lead out into the garden, I slide the door closed gently behind me, muffling the sounds of music, debate and laughter inside.

There’s nobody out here. Thank God.  
Just a few minutes on my own and I’ll be ready to rejoin the party. Ready to plaster on that smile once more before concocting an excuse to leave early.

The cold Colorado night air hits me like a tone of bricks, enhancing the effects of the alcohol. It takes me a moment to notice but the sky is awash with stars and the moon is full and round. Momentarily in awe I take a cigarette from my pocket and fumble for my lighter, staring upward. “Wow....”

My breath becomes visible in front of me in the cool night air, and just like that I’m lost for a moment, beyond myself, basking in wonder over the awesome cosmic beauty of the universe. Or maybe I’m just drunk. Either way, it’s fucking breathtaking. Now my lighter... I pat my pockets down to no avail. “Damn, where the fuck is it?” 

Hearing a soft chuckle from behind me, my heart starts to beat like a coked-out hummingbird. Spinning on my heels, wide-eyed, I’m met with a grin that almost knocks the breath out of me. It’s him. “Holy shit, man, you scared the hell out of me!”

He continues to laugh soft and low as he steps forward from the darkened corner he’d been standing in. “Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Well you did, you asshole! Jesus, you nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“Hey, I said I was sorry,” he raises his hands up in his defense. “No need to go hurting my feelings over it!” He tries to maintain a straight face but loses it quickly, erupting back into the throws of laughter, a steady stream of it pouring from his lips.

“It’s not fucking funny, dude.”

“Not even a little?”

“I don’t really find some weird guy standing there, silently watching me in the dark particularly funny, no. It’s actually kind of creepy.”

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise and it’s hard to tell but I think I see a light pink flush touch his cheeks. “I wasn’t... creepily watching you. I mean...I... maybe I was for a second or two...” he smiles a little at that but starts to look a little flustered, self-conscious even. “I just... I...I thought you were looking at me, too. When we... were inside I mean....I just... I didn’t...”

I start to feel guilty.

“I came outside to get away from all those drunken idiots in there... and to look at the stars.” He tilts his head back and looks up toward the sky, the same way I’d done moments before. “Goddamn, it really is a beautiful night...”

“Oh.”

Even guiltier.

“Oh?” he repeats, now looking me straight in the eye again. “Now who’s the asshole?!” 

I laugh despite myself and so does he and suddenly we seem to be standing closer than before. “Still you.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right about that,” he agrees. “It’s okay though. My roguishly handsome good looks more than make up for it, don’t they?” 

I roll my eyes but find myself laughing again. I suddenly can’t help but wonder what I’d do if he kissed me right now. “Oh yeah, for sure, always got that to fall back on,” I agree, deciding that I’d probably quite like it if he did.

“So, you having fun in there?” He gestures with a wave of his hand towards the door I just came out of. I pause for a second before deciding to tell the truth.

“No, not really. Are you?”

“No,” he admits with a shake of his head. “I’m not really one for parties in general.”

“Neither am I.”

He looks at me almost disbelievingly. “I thought your crowd loved a good party.”

My crowd. Jesus.

“Oh, they do. I just came along to look cool.”

“Oh yeah?” He looks quite amused by that. “Well at least you’re honest about it.”

“To be honest I’d much prefer to be at home in my pajamas, curled up on the couch with my cat and the latest Stephen King novel.”

“Hey, nothing wrong with that. In fact I think I’d much prefer to be your cat in that scenario than I would being here tonight. I only came along because I had nothing better to do.”  
  
I feel myself start to let my guard down a little more. This guy actually seems kind of cool. “I’m sorry that I called you an asshole...”  
  
“That’s okay,” he chuckles. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure I can be at times.” Donning a mischievous grin, it becomes evident that this boy possesses a quirky sort of charm that’s almost immediately observable. The tip of his tongue darts out and quickly licks his lower lip, causing my breath to catch in my throat.  
  
“Hey, what were you thinking about just now?” he asks, voice suddenly curious. I look at him blankly for a second before he elaborates. “While you were looking up at the stars. You know, before I nearly gave you that heart attack.” I assume he’s looking for an answer that’s slightly deeper than I was wondering where the fuck my lighter was.

“Oh... just life in general, I suppose. The future, the past. How small and insignificant me and my problems seem in comparison to such a vast and imposing universe.”  
  
“Good answer.”  
  
“What about you?”  
  
“If I told you I’d have to kill you.”  
  
“Yeah, I’m sure it’s really not that interesting anyway...”  
  
He gasps and brings a hand up to clutch his chest, pretending to be horribly offended. We stand there smiling at one another like a couple of idiots for what feels like an unreasonably long amount of time. Surprisingly, it doesn’t feel strange in the slightest. And somewhat even more bizarrely he does not feel like a stranger. And I’m not sure why.

“I think about life on other planets. What it’d be like to interact with them,” he says, breaking the silence. “Whether or not they’d like to enslave the entire human race or just vaporize us all immediately upon landing. You know, that kinda stuff.”  
  
“Personally, I think I’d vote for vaporizing every last one of us immediately upon landing,” I admit. The expression on his face changes suddenly to one I cannot read. He cocks his head to the side and stares at me strangely for a moment before replying.

“So would I,” he agrees. “Minus a select few, of course. Present company included.”  
  
We spend a few minutes discussing the possibility of life on other planets. Then he tells me about some of his favorite video games, especially Doom, insisting that I have to try it sometime. I’m not much of a gamer but he speaks about it so passionately that I can’t help but find it endearingly adorable.  
  
“You like Rammstein?” the boy whose name I don’t yet know asks, suddenly noticing me glancing down at his torso.  
  
“No, I’m just checking out your tits.”  
  
“Pervert.” He folds his arms across his chest, indignantly. “Don’t you dare objectify me like that.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I laugh, “but yeah, I like Rammstein. A couple of their songs at least.”  
  
“And my tits?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow. “What’s the verdict on those?”  
  
“Those are nice, too,” I jokingly concede.  
  
“Thanks. So, what’s your favorite song of theirs?”  
  
“Probably Büch Dich,” I tell him. “What’s yours?”  
  
The mischievous grin returns. “You do know what Büch Dich means, don’t you?”  
  
“Um... no actually. I like their music from what I’ve heard of it but I don’t speak a word of German.”  
  
An exacerbated sigh falls from his lips as he begins to shake his head. “Fucking poser.” I revert to the maturity level of a five year old, sticking my tongue out at him in response.  
  
His voice drops to little more than a whisper as he takes a step closer, causing my heart to beat a little faster. “It means bend over. Any particular reason that one is your favorite?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“No, no particular reason,” I grin. “Besides just liking how it sounds.”  
  
“That’s disappointing,” he murmurs beneath his breath.  
  
My reply is yet another eye roll but it’s hard not to keep smiling. “I like how the chorus sounds like there’s a really intense game of ping-pong going on in the background.”  
  
“Yeah, actually it kinda does,” he agrees with a chuckle. “Now that you say it.”  
  
“What about you? Got a favorite?”  
  
He pauses for a second to think, taking the question seriously. “It changes a lot. Right now though it’s probably Weisses Fleisch.”  
  
“Any particular reason that one is your favorite?” I ask wiggling my eyebrows at him this time.  
  
“Yeah,” he laughs, “but you’ll just have to translate that one for yourself if you want to know why.”  
  
It seems hard to believe there’s a party going on just meters away from us. It feels a thousand miles away. And in this moment it’s hard to believe anyone else even exists. There’s a sort of tension in the air. The kind that could be cut with a knife. The kind that stems from pure unfiltered electricity coursing back and fourth from one soul to another. His eyes bore into mine and as cliche as it sounds it feels as though he’s staring into my soul.

Suddenly, I really need a cigarette. I pat the side of my jeans pocket again, find nothing and sigh. As if reading my mind he reaches into the pocket of his jeans, pulls out a lighter and lights the flame in front of me. “Here.”  
  
I’m still a little tipsy but the air has started to sober me up. Almost going into cardiac arrest probably also helped sharpen my senses significantly. I light the end of my cigarette and for some reason find myself resting my fingers on his wrist as I do so. I hear him produce a sharp intake of breath. As I pull away from the flame I glance up at his face. The pale moonlight dances across his features and I notice that his eyes are both a pretty shade of hazel and downcast toward my lips.  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
“No problem.”  
  
“How’d you know I needed a lighter?”

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes. “Cause I was the creepy asshole silently watching you through the darkness, remember?”  
  
“Ah yes,” I nod, pretending that I’m not far too amused by the comment. “That’s true.”  
  
“And the fact that you’ve been holding an unlit cigarette for the entirety of our conversation. That was a little bit of a giveaway as well.”  
  
“Who are you?” I ask, resisting the urge to add ‘and where have you been all my life?’  
  
“Ich bin Gott,” he replies simply.  
  
“What does that mean?”  
  
He just smiles and illuminated in the moonlight it seems almost dark somehow. Almost sinister. “I’m Eric, but you can call me Reb if you like.”  
  
Eric, that’s it!  
  
“Hi Reb, I’m-.”  
  
“Yeah,” he interrupts, voice slightly colder now. “I know who you are.”  
  
I wasn’t anticipating that response.  
  
“Not impressed I take it?”  
  
“I didn’t say that, it’s just...”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Your friends are kind of...”  
  
“Go on.”  
  
He pauses and takes out a cigarette of his own, lighting it before he continues. “They’re... kind of dicks.”  
  
I nod in agreement. The statement is of a similar sentiment to one that’s been rattling around my head for months now. “Yeah, I know.”  
  
He laughs, this time in disbelief, exhaling a cloud of smoke skyward as he does so. “You think so too, huh?”  
  
“Not all of them but yeah, I know what you mean. Some of them can be quite...dickish at times, for lack of a better word.”  
  
“No, dickish is a pretty good word for it.”  
He runs a hand along the back of his neck as if trying to release built up tension there.  
  
“I’m not sure I actually like any of my friends anymore,” I admit, only realizing how accurate of a statement it is once it finally leaves my mouth. Why am I telling him this? Maybe because I feel like I can.  
  
“Then why do you hang out with them?” he asks, bringing his cigarette back to his lips. A simple question, a good question, yet I find myself unable to verbalize an articulate answer. I take another drag, giving myself a second or two to think about it.

“I don’t really know...” I admit. “Convenience maybe?”  
  
He nods, seemingly understandingly but I still feel a little awkward about just confessing that to him. A little exposed.

“Hey, what happened to that tall guy you were with?”  
  
“Who? Dylan? Oh, he’s around here somewhere. Last I saw of him he was busy talking to that asshole Brooks so I dipped out.”  
  
“Ah, I see.” I take another drag of my cigarette. For a moment neither of us speak. We look at each other and continue to smoke in weirdly comfortable silence. Finally, I break it. “So, you think I’m a dick?”  
  
“I didn’t say that,” he laughs.  
  
“You didn’t have to.”  
  
“I said your friends are,” he protests. “Or at least a lot of them are. You on the other hand, I think seem a little more... interesting,” he takes a deep drag, his eyes not quite meeting mine anymore.  
”And I’m not just saying that because you’re beautiful.” 

  
I’ve never been very good at taking compliments and although I’m appreciative of the sweet remark, it’s difficult to respond with any level of seriousness. “I really am, aren’t I?” I reply, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Stunning even, some might say...”  
  
His laughter continues and it occurs to me that it’s quickly becoming a noise I’m beginning to like the sound of. “Hey, if the shoes fits.”  
  
I take a final drag before crushing the butt of my cigarette beneath my heel. Why does this feel so easy? So natural? So effortless compared to 95% of the conversations I engage in on a daily basis? I can’t even attribute it to the alcohol. It feels as though I’ve been hit by an invisible bolt of lightning and I can’t help but wonder if he feels it too.  
  
“So incredibly modest as well, I see,” he retorts, meeting my sarcasm and raising me some of his own. “But I don’t know you well enough to say whether you’re a dick or not. Even though we do have that one class together, we’ve never really spoken before.”  
  
Wait, we do? I knew I’d seen him around before, was vaguely aware of who he was but didn’t know we actually had any classes together. I feel a little more embarrassed and self-absorbed when he tells me just how close he usually sits near me in that class.  
  
“You like drawing,” he murmurs, a small smile touching his lips, “I’ve noticed that.” Eric finishes his own cigarette then, flicking it carelessly across the garden. “I’ve seen you in class scribbling away for most of the semester now, that look of total concentration on your face, determined to get all the little details just right.”

He chuckles and shakes his head as if he can’t quite believe he’s actually admitting to this. “I always wanted to see what it was that you were drawing but I never had the sack to just get up, walk over to you and finally say something... anything....”  
  
“Really?” is all I can manage in my surprise. “I had no idea.”  
  
“Really,” he says, starting to look slightly embarrassed over his abrupt confession. Miraculously failing to realize how incredibly sweet he sounds. How have I never noticed you before? You’re not like them at all, are you? Not even a little bit.  
  
“And I’ve also noticed how you sometimes bring a little bag of candy in your pocket and eat it throughout class when you think nobody is looking...” He seems to find this particularly amusing.  
  
“Eric...”  
  
“Call me Reb.”  
  
“Reb?” I take a step towards him, closing in the last bit of distance between us, our bodies now practically touching. We’re so close I can’t help but notice him swallow an apparent lump in his throat.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Do you want to get out of here?”  
  
“I’m sorry, what?” he asks, even though I’m fairly certain he heard me.  
  
“I asked if you want to get out of here.”  
  
Eric looks at me as if I’ve suddenly grown a second head. “Seriously?”  
  
“Yeah, I mean, I just thought since neither of us really want to be here maybe we could go some place else.”  
  
“Together?” he asks, eyeing me somewhat skeptically. “Where would we go?”  
  
“Anywhere you want. We could just drive around for a while and talk. We could go get stoned and look at the stars or maybe even head up into the mountains to watch the sunrise. I really don’t feel like going back in there, do you?”  
  
“No,” he admits, “not really.”  
  
It’s extremely unlike me to suggest something so spontaneous but as soon as the idea occurs to me I can’t help but go with it. The thought of not only escaping this awful party but doing so with him by my side is almost exhilarating. I’d much prefer to spend the next few hours getting better acquainted with this strangely charming young man than I would holding back Laura’s hair while she drunkenly blows either chunks all over a stranger’s toilet or my ex.  
  
“You really want to leave here with me?” he asks quietly, looking slightly self-conscious.  
  
“Sure, why not?”  
  
Eric stares at me for a moment before shaking his head slowly. “Oh fuck, I’m such a goddamn idiot.”  
  
“What do yo-.”  
  
The expression of disbelief on his face gives way and a quick flash of anger registers on his face, taking me by surprise. “I should have known it was too good to be true... Someone put you up to this, didn’t they? You knew I was out here when you came out...”

Eric’s expression is crestfallen for barely a moment before flashing back to anger. “I bet you and your dumb fucking friends thought it’d be hilarious to mess with that weird Eric kid, huh?”  
  
I’m so taken aback I can’t even speak for a second. Does he honestly think I’d find enjoyment in that?  
  
“Didn’t you?!” he demands, quickly growing impatient.  
  
“No, of course not! And even if they did, what the fuck makes you think I’d be stupid enough to go along with it?!” We’re nearly shouting at one another now as we stand opposite each other, respective tempers flaring in the moonlight that permeates the dark and deserted garden around us.  
  
“Maybe cause you’re dating that dickhead Scott Evans for starters!” Thank God that statement isn’t accurate anymore. To be honest I’m surprised he hasn’t mentioned that before this point.  
  
“Thought I didn’t know about that, huh?!”  
  
“No, you dumbass, we broke up! The only part of that sentence that’s true is the fact that he’s a dickhead.”  
  
The hard edges of his face begin to soften and the anger seems to dissipate significantly.  
  
“Besides I figure he’s probably at least elbow deep in my friend Laura by now, so...”

Eric starts to laugh at that, but it seems a little forced. “Then he’s even more of an idiot than I’d initially thought for letting a girl like you get away in the first place.”  
  
“Oh he’s a complete fucking moron, I agree wholeheartedly with that assessment!”  
  
This time the laugh seems more genuine.  
He glances down at his combat boots for a second then back up at me. “I still feel like you’re messing with me somehow.”  
  
“That’s ridiculous, don’t you think you’re being a little paranoid, dude?”  
  
“In the immortal words of Kurt Cobain, just because you’re paranoid don’t mean they’re not after you.”  
  
“Touché, but you’re not Kurt Cobain and I’m not messing with you.”  
  
“Then prove it,” he demands. “Kiss me.”  
  
I can only stare at him dumbfounded.  
His voice gets softer as he adds, “And then we can go anywhere you want.”  
  
“Look, I-.”  
  
“Hell, I’d find a way to take you to fucking Phobos itself if that’s where you wanted to go!” he interrupts, slightly exasperated.“I’m just...” his voice trails off. “I’m just not sure I believe you...”  
  
I want to kiss him just to shut him up. Just to prove to him that my offer was legitimate but mostly just because I really fucking want to... Even so, I can’t easily shake the fact that he thinks I’d be so horrible. “Do you really think I’m that much of a bitch? That I’d toy with you like that for the sake of some stupid joke? I mean, seriously?!”   
  
“Do you really think I’m that much of an idiot? That I’d believe one of the most popular girls in school wants to leave a party to go hang out with me? I mean, seriously?!” he mockingly adds.  
  
“Wow, you really are an asshole, huh?”  
  
“I told you I was,” he reminds me.  
  
“Eric, I-.”  
  
“Reb,” he corrects me.  
  
“Reb, I wouldn’t do that.”  
  
“Talk is cheap,” he sighs. “You gonna prove it or what?” His voice sounds a tad irritated but his eyes give him away, seemingly almost pleading with me for this not to be the makings of some cruel and foolish prank. My heart aches at the very suggestion.  
  
Is this really happening? And if so, how the hell did it manage to escalate so quickly? It occurs to me suddenly that I neither know nor do I care. Twenty minutes ago I’d been standing next to my “best friends” at what was already being touted as “the party of the year.” I should have been having the time of my life but instead I felt numb, dejected, wishing I was anywhere else on Earth. But now for the first time tonight I’m genuinely glad I decided to come.  
  
“Well?” he says, growing even more impatient.  
  
Fuck it. “Fine, asshole, come here,” I grab the front of his shirt, pulling him forward.  
  
“Fucking poser,” he mutters right before what seems like the inevitable collision of our lips.

The first kiss is clumsy but satisfying. His hands find my waist and after a few seconds he slips his tongue into my mouth. It’s slightly uncoordinated at first but we soon find a comfortable rhythm. I press my body against his, earning a slight moan for my efforts. Smirking against his lips I feel a hand slide down toward my lower back. He tastes like cigarettes and candy and smells faintly of soap, a pleasant change from the overpowering scent of cologne that I’m used to. After a few heated moments I pull away and his eyes flutter open. He looks a little dazed.  
  
“That was nice,” he murmurs, lips curled up into a smile.  
  
“Still think I’m joking?”  
  
“As a matter of fact, I’m not yet entirely convinced,” but his voice is lighter now, softer. “You may have to do it another couple of times, just to convince me that you’re serious...”   
  
“I think I can do that, but what about the mountains?”  
  
“What about them?”  
  
I shove him lightly and his laughter is like music to my ears. “Like I said, we can go anywhere you want. I told the folks I was staying at Dylan’s tonight anyway so they won’t be expecting me.”  
  
“I just...”  
  
“What?” I press him.  
  
“Still can’t believe this is happening.”  
  
“Neither can I but I’m really glad it is.”  
  
“So am I.”  
  
“I feel like you’re the first real person I’ve met in a very long time.”  
  
He smiles at me in a way that makes my heart feel like it might burst before taking my hand in his. “You know, Lucy, you are nothing like I thought you’d be. All the times I’ve thought about you, wondered what you were like... I wasn’t even close.”  
  
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”  
  
“Oh a good thing,” he assures me. “Definitely. A very, very good thing. Can I... can I kiss you again?”  
  
“No,” I shake my head. “Absolutely not,” but the fact that I’m smiling from ear to ear seems to convey the fact that I’m joking. Then he’s kissing me again, wrapping his arms around my body once more, gripping me possessively. His kisses are soft and sweeter than a fifty pound bag of sugar dipped in honey.  
  
“God, I’m really fucking glad I decided to come tonight,” he sighs, fingers lazily trailing up and down the length of my spine.  
  
“Me too.”  
  
“And as luck would have it I went camping last weekend. I think I’ve still got a couple of sleeping bags in the trunk. Talk about serendipitous, huh?”  
  
“Must be fate,” I agree.  
  
“Certainly fucking feels like it...” He runs his fingers gently down the side of my face before tucking a lose strand of hair behind my ear and I’m pleasantly taken aback by the tenderness of it. “Still, it’s gonna be pretty cold up there. We might have to cuddle for warmth.”  
  
“Cuddle you?” I ask, feigning disgust.  
“I’d rather die of hypothermia.”  
  
“That’s what I thought,” he sighs again, nodding his head. “Oh well, suit yourself, lady. At least I won’t have to starve to death up there if you happen to pass away first, I mean, I figure your remains can sustain me for at least a day or two until help can reach me, so...”  
  
“You’d eat me?” I gasp, pretending to be horrified.  
  
Another wicked smile. “Any time, any place, baby. Just say the word.”  
  
“I meant in the cannibalistic way, you perv.”   
  
“Oh so did I,” he insists, his face the picture of innocence. “I’d smother you in ketchup and you’d taste just like hamburger meat. Delish.”  
  
“You sick bastard, that’s disgusting.”  
  
“Oh, don’t be such a fucking princess about it. Beggars can’t exactly be choosers now, can they, sweetheart?”

I’m am nothing short of delighted by the fact that he seems to not only enjoy my odd, admittedly slightly dark sense of humor, but that he also has one of his own. Even so, him calling me “sweetheart” has far more of an effect on me than I feel it should. With a glint in his eye he suddenly grows more brazen, slidding a hand downward and cupping my ass through my jeans.

“Oh yes, I think this piece will do very nicely.... Very nicely indeed.”  
  
“Stop it, you weirdo!” I laugh, dearly hoping he doesn’t.  
  
“Make me,” he grins against my mouth before kissing me again. “I guess you’ll just have to suck it up and cuddle me then, won’t you?”  
  
How in the hell could this person have flown so far beneath my radar until now? His lips are warm and soft, much softer than I would have expected. I kiss him back and for several minutes more that’s all we do. The idea of someone walking out into the garden and seeing us comes to mind fleetingly but I decide I couldn’t care less. Although I’d imagine Laura’s response would be quite entertaining.  
  
This strange handsome boy has provided the most wonderfully unexpected distraction from a party I hadn’t even wanted to come to in the first place, from a group of friends who now feel almost like strangers, from an ex-boyfriend who never gave a damn about anyone but himself...  
  
“You’re not still drunk, are you?” Eric asks, the idea strangely only just occurring to him now.  
  
“Just on your intoxicating presence, baby.”   
  
“Are lines like that supposed to convince me of your sobriety?” he snickers, snaking an arm back around my waist.  
  
“Says the wannabe cannibal. I’m sober as a judge. Besides, even if I wasn’t there’s nothing like that crisp mountain air to sober a girl up.”  
  
“And you really want to stay to watch the sunrise? That’s a couple of hours away still. I mean it won’t be a long drive there but-.”  
  
“Sick of me already?”  
  
“Oh fuck, no, I’m more than willing if you are. I can keep us warm enough and I promise not to eat you, well, in the literal sense at least... I just don’t want you to get bored is all.”  
  
“Well you’ll just have to find a way to keep me entertained until the sun comes up then, won’t you?”  
  
“Oh,” a wide smile begins to spread across his face. “Is that so? And just how would I go about doing that?”  
  
“Well, I thought maybe you could do my algebra homework for a start,” I whisper in the most seductive voice I can muster. “That’s the kind of kinky shit that really gets me going.”  
  
“Yeah, me too,” he agrees, his own voice low and far more sensuous than it has any right to be. “I’m getting excited just thinking about all those equations... but I think I’d prefer to study a little human anatomy myself.”  
  
“Sounds like a plan. Let’s get going then, shall we?”  
  
He’s still looking at me as though in a state of mild disbelief but he takes my hand regardless, intertwining his fingers with mine before leading me off along the side of the house. He stops suddenly and turns back to look at me.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“You don’t... really want me to do your algebra homework for you, do you?”  
  
“No,” I laugh, shaking my head incredulously.  
  
“Okay, cool,” he smiles, almost shyly now.  
“I would though, you know, if you wanted me to.”  
  
“Eric?”  
  
“Yeah?” I notice he doesn’t correct me or tell me to call him Reb this time.  
  
“Stop killing the mood.”  
  
“Oh shit, sorry,” he gives my hand a little squeeze and leads me along, practically beaming behind him. “Come on, Lucy, I’m parked out front.”

“Can we listen to Rammstein on the way there?” 

He glances back over his shoulder at me, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Oh, you bet your preppy little poser ass we can!”


	2. Splash of Vodka

Eric and I walk hand in hand through the darkness, matching grins adorning our faces as we continue along the narrow pathway by the side of the house. We pause at a sudden sound seemingly coming from the bushes up ahead. A noise that sounds as though it could belong to a wounded animal.

”Did you hear that?” 

“Yeah,” Eric nods. “What the fuck is that?” Exchanging looks of concern before venturing forward, we soon discover the source of the noise. He has her pushed up against the wall by the door, her hands on his back, griping his shoulders, moaning loudly. His face is buried in the crook of her neck. It takes my brain a couple of seconds to register the fact that it’s actually them.

“Oh My God!” 

“What is it?” Eric hasn’t seen them yet. Following my line of vision, he begins squinting through the darkness of the garden toward the couple by the door. “Shit,” he looks at me again, frowning this time. “Is that-.”

“Yep.”

“And is that-.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Fuck.” He offers me a sympathetic look, giving my hand a quick, reassuring squeeze. “You okay?”

It’s been a long time since I stopped giving a shit where Scott is concerned, but Laura has been one of my best friends since the first grade. And I can’t deny the fact that this stings. Bitterly. I think back to her words earlier in the night; ‘You’ve only been broken up for what, less than two weeks?’

Then my own words; ‘I wouldn’t want to ruin this little love connection. Remember to us a rubber!’

I feel a strange and intense wave of emotion wash over me. Anger, sadness, betrayal, all at once, burning in the pit of my stomach.

“I will be.” I squeeze his hand back. “Just as soon as we get the fuck out of here.”

Eric opens the passenger side door of his car, a gray Honda prelude and gestures for me to get in with a wave of his hand. “Ladies first.”

“Such a gentleman.”

“You just try and remember that kinda chivalrous shit the next time you’re about to call me an asshole!” 

I climb in and he runs around to the other side before sliding in behind the wheel and starting the car. KMFDM begins to blare from the stereo.

“Damn, Eric, are you deaf or something? Fuck!”

“What can I say?” he shrugs, ejecting the CD and quickly replacing it with another before fastening his seatbelt. “I like it loud. Buckle up.”

I do so, as a familiar song begins to play.  
The car is running but we still haven’t moved. He turns the radio down.

“You sure you’re okay, Lucy goosey?”

I manage a small smile at the nickname.  
“Yeah,” I nod. “I’m fine.”

He raises his eyebrows at me, clearly calling bullshit on that one.

“What?”

“I don’t know a lot about women,” he admits. “As shocking as that probably is to you, I know, total chick magnet like myself.”

I smile genuinely this time.

“But one thing I do know is that most of the time when a girl says she’s fine, she’s talking out of her ass.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that you don’t have to beat around the fucking bush with me. Tell me how you really feel. The good, the bad, the ugly. I can take it, but I’m not buying that ‘I’m fine’ shit for a second. You don’t...” he pauses and his eyes meet the car floor before meeting mine again. “You don’t... still like him though... do you?”

“Oh Christ, fuck no!”

“Okay,” Eric laughs, pretending to wipe sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “Good. Now that I actually believe. Phew! Thank God for that! I was worried I was gonna have to kick Scott Evans’ ass there for a second...”

The mental image of him doing so brings an immediate smile to my face.

“I’d pay a lot of money to see that.”

“I totally could you know,” he assures me, flexing his arms before kissing the tops of each of them. “With these guns of steel he’d have no fucking chance.”

“You’re such a fucking dork,” I tell him, but the laughter is flowing freely now. And already I find myself feeling a little better.

“What about your friend Laura?”

“What about her?”

“Do you you want me to go slash her tires for you or something?”

I stare at him in mild shock for a moment before dissolving into laughter again. “Jesus, Eric! Seems a little drastic, doesn’t it?”

“Does it?”

“I don’t think the situation quite warrants it somehow, no.”

“Guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree on that one, won’t we?”

“Thank you for the offer, but I don’t think it’ll be necessary.”

“Oh, come on, you’re no fun! Just commit one little petty act of mindless vandalism with me!”

“Yeah, that’s not going to be happening.”

“You are way too nice, you know that? Such a damn good girl. It’s just fucking weird, honestly. Almost like Mother Theresa herself is riding shotgun next to me.”

“Shut up, you idiot.”

“Hey, I might be an idiot,” he grins. “But I’m an idiot you’ve got the hots for, aren’t I? Must be doing something right.”

I roll my eyes for what must be the fiftieth time this evening.

“Well, if you ever change your mind just let me know. I’d be more than happy to help you exact a little retribution. And just so you know, Lucy...” Eric leans toward me, bringing a hand up to my cheek, caressing it gently as he stares deeply into my eyes, “...if a giant flaming bag of dog shit somehow ends up on both of their doorsteps tomorrow morning, I had nothing to do with it.”

“Right,” I laugh, more than a little amused by the idea. “Of course not.”

“Just try and forget about those assholes, okay? Please.” Our lips meet again. And again. And again. His fingers wrap gently around my neck. I open my eyes to look at him. “Neither one of them fucking deserves you anyway.”

As he finally pulls away from the house and out onto the road I can’t help but wonder once again if this is really happening. My heart beats like a jackhammer. Doing backflips in my chest with anticipation over what’s to come.

He grips the wheel with one hand.  
Without taking his eyes off the road he reaches over with the other and rests it atop my leg, just above the knee. Laura is soon all but forgotten.This guy gives me butterflies. The last one gave me migraines.

The music continues to play as we drive.  
I begin to sing along, slowly coming out of my funk with the help of his presence alone. Eric keeps his eyes on the road but I notice him smiling from the corner of my eye.

“What?”

He glances over at me quickly and shakes his head. “Nothing.”

I lean over so my face is inches from his.  
“Du, Du Hast, DU HAST MICH!!!!”

It takes a second or two for the stoic exterior to begin to crumble, but it does, and he begins to laugh. I join him, suddenly very aware of the fact that I feel more alive right now than I have in quite a long time.

I reach over and rest a hand on his leg and he jerks slightly in his chair at the sudden unexpected contact. As my fingers begin to slide upward along his thigh his mouth falls open. His breathing becoming shallower now, more ragged.  
Just the tiniest bit further and much to my delight; a heavy sigh escapes his lips.

“Fuck...”

“Is that what you wanna do?” I whisper.

“Goddamn it, woman...” He licks his lips quickly and shifts slightly in his chair. “You fucking know I do... It’s just...”

“Just what, Reb?”

Eric makes a noise similar to a whimper in response to the nickname. I attempt to make my voice as innocent and unassuming as possible as I continue. “Want me to stop?”

“Oh fuck, no,” he insists, “but unless you want my car to end up wrapped around a tree like a goddamn pretzel... maybe we should wait until we get up into the mountains to, you know...”

“Too distracting?” I ask, now far too pleased with myself.

“Way, way too distracting. I know it must be hard trying to resist such a devastatingly handsome Adonis as myself,” Eric looks over at me again, smirking, “... but you’re just gonna have to try and restrain yourself for me a little bit longer, okay, sweetheart?’

Sweetheart again. Fuck.

“Absolutely not, Harris. I demand you pull this car over and ravish me immediately!”

Eric laughs, loud and uninhibited, the sound fills the car and once again is music to my ears. He reaches a hand over and runs it up along the length of my thigh now, sighing as he does so before finally bringing both hands back to the wheel. “Careful what you wish for...”

He bites his bottom lip, shifting again in his chair, gripping the wheel tighter now.“It’s not that much further now anyway.” I hear him murmur a faint, “Thank God” beneath his breath.

Eric puts his foot down harder on the gas and the car picks up speed, cruising smoothly down the long, winding road ahead of us, taking us off into the night. Together.

Our hands find one another’s again and once more it occurs to me just how much different it feels with him. How much better. The universe itself not only allowing me to but encouraging me even to throw caution to the wind. To delve into this. Whatever the fuck this is. Head first. With him. And to ask questions later. To think I almost hadn’t come to the party tonight. Almost hadn’t met him. And who knows if we ever would have spoken if we hadn’t done so tonight.

“Oh shit!” Eric cries out suddenly, bringing a fist down hard on the wheel. “No! No! No!”

“Jesus, Eric, what’s-.”

“Fuck! Fuckity! Fuck! Fuck! FUUUCK!”

“What the hell is it?!”My voice comes out more shaken with alarm than I expect it to. “What’s wrong?!”

He slows the car down before turning off on the side of the road and switching it off completely. We sit there quietly for a moment then he lets out a long sigh. “I forgot about Dylan.”

Eric throws his head back against the headrest. “I was supposed to fucking drive his lanky ass home tonight and I completely forgot!” He hits the wheel again. Hard. “Goddamn it!”

“Dylan? That tall guy you were with?” My heart beat is slowly returning to a somewhat normal rhythm now, even having just witnessed Eric physically assault his steering wheel.

“Yep. The very one.”

“Jesus, is that all? You forgot to pick your friend up? Is that it?”

“Well, yeah,” he says, somewhat confused.

“God, Eric, you scared the shit out of me!”

“Did I? Oh fuck, I’m sorry. I seem to be making a bit of a habit of that, huh?”

“Scaring the shit out of me? Well now that you mention it.”

“Do I scare you?” he asks, leaning forward in his chair towards me now, his face growing serious as he appears to begin to study mine. Anticipating my response. Is he serious or not? I honestly can’t tell.

“Only when you start beating the crap out of your car.” I anticipate a smile from him but neither he nor his face moves in the slightest. He just stares. “Should you scare me, Eric?” I ask finally. And yet again I find myself unable to decipher the expression on his face. Unreadable. At least to me.

”Eric?”

“Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” he finally replies with a quick shake of his head. “Listen, I’m really sorry, Lucy. I’m a dick. I know I shouldn’t be acting like that in front of you.”

“Or at all.”

He stares at me for a moment or two before nodding his head in agreement.“Or at all,” he agrees. “Absolutely.”

“And besides we haven’t gone very far. Can’t we just go back and pick him up?”

“Well, yeah, we’re kinda gonna have to, unfortunately.” He hits his head against the back of the chair again. “I can’t just leave his poor drunk ass stranded there without a ride. He doesn’t have his car with him and more likely than not is out of his mind levels of wasted by now. I don’t wanna let you down either, though,” he sighs. “I told you I’d take you up there tonight.” “Wherever you wanted to go. I promised.”

“That’s okay, Eric, although I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little disappointed. I was kinda hoping we could get to know one another a little better up there, all alone in the dark, clinging to one another for warmth...”

Eric groans in frustration before a small smile begins to play on his lips. “Slowly freezing to death,” he adds. “Being eaten alive by cannibals...”

“Sure,” I nod. “All that good stuff. We can always take a raincheck.”

He looks disappointed but nods his head understandingly all the same. “Raincheck,” he repeats. “Okay, cool, I’m gonna hold you to that, Lucy. I’m just going to need to pick Dylan up and give him a ride first but I can bring you home right after, okay?”

“Yeah, of course. Thanks.”

“And I will take you up there some day, you know,” he insists, squeezing my hand again. “Soon.”

“I know.” Leaning over in my seat I plant a quick kiss on his cheek.

“What was that for?” he asks with a smile. 

“Because you’re cute.”

“Cute? I’m not a damn kitten, Lucy. I don’t wanna be cute. Can’t you call me like handsome or sexy or something?”

“Okay, come on, you sexy handsome thing, you,” I laugh. “Let’s go get your friend.”

“Now that’s more like it!”

As we pull back up onto the street the house is on, I begin to feel a little nervous about the prospect of seeing Scott and Laura inside. Eric parks across the street, switching off the ignition before turning towards me, reading my mind once again.“Do you wanna wait in the car?”

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”

Another quick kiss.

“I’ll be back in two seconds. Try not to miss me too much, okay?”

“Oh, I’ll certainly try.”

He smiles at me before he opens the car door and starts to climb out, stopping halfway to look back over his shoulder at me. “I hope you’re not checking out my ass, Peters.”

“Guilty as charged. You caught me,” I tell him, holding my hands up in front of me. “Slap the cuffs on, officer.”

“Handcuffs?” He grins, eyes suddenly dark again. Eric turns fully back around to face me. Another quick lick of the lips. “Would you, umm...” He clears his throat, “... would you be into that kinda thing?”

I roll my eyes. “Just go get Dylan, Eric.”

“Dylan, yes... That’s why we’re here,” he chuckles. “I kind of forgot what we were doing there for a second. It’s just when you mentioned the idea of handcuffs it kinda-.”

“Will you please just go get the man, for fuck’s sake?!”

“Okay! Okay! Keep your panties on... wait, actually, please don’t...”

“Eric, I swear to fucking God-.”

“Two seconds!”

The car door bangs shut and I can still hear him laughing from the other side of the street, helpless to do anything but smile as I watch him go. I’m contemplating having another cigarette, only having been waiting there a minute or so, when I hear a loud knocking on the window to the side of me. My heart jumps up into my throat.

Fucking Eric.

Startled, I turn to meet a face and a mess of wild blonde hair, inches from mine on the other side of the glass.

Not Eric. Dylan.

“Holy shit! I thought Reb was just fucking around but you’re really out here!” He laughs heartily and the noise echoes loudly into the night. “Hey, did Eric lock you in there?” he inquires, gently rapping on the glass with the large onyx stone of the ring he’s wearing. “Is that what the situation is?”

I stare at him perplexed for a moment. “Ma’am, please answer me.” The ring continues to tap against the window beside me. “Have you been taken against your will? Do you require emergency assistance? Did he threaten you or just lure you inside with the classic ‘I’ve got candy and puppies in the car’ routine?”

He turns away from me suddenly, eyes darting around the front lawn of the house, looking irritated. “Wait a minute, where in the hell did that little fucker Paul go anyway?” The backdoor is yanked open forcefully and a mess of long limbs tumbles into the backseat behind me. “That son of a bitch still owes me twenty bucks!” The smell of hard liquor permeates the air as he pulls the door shut behind him with a loud bang.

Grinning up at me from the darkened backseat, he decides to properly introduce himself. “Hey, I’m Dylan.”

“I certainty fucking hope that’s who you are. Nice to finally meet you, Dylan... I think.”

“Oh yeah, likewise,” he says politely before starting to laugh again, shaking his head. “If you don’t mind me asking, Lucy, how in the hell did this end up happening?”

“How did what end up happening?”

“You know what, you and Eric.”

Before I can form a response the door opposite me opens and a slightly exasperated looking Eric slides in behind the wheel.

“Thanks, man,” Dylan leans forward in his seat and clamps a large hand down on his shoulder. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten all about me.”

“Of course not, dude,” Eric says, offering me a sly grin as he starts the car up again. “What ever could have given you that idea?”

“I’m sorry I ever doubted you, man,” Dylan says, slurring his words just a little. “You’re fucking awesome, Reb. Thanks for driving me home.”

“It’s cool, man,” Eric glances at his drunk friend in the mirror, a small amused smile on his lips. “Don’t mention it.” He looks over at me for a brief second and sighs before bringing his eyes back to the road. “Besides what the fuck else would I be doing right now if not acting as your designated driver?”

Dylan’s house is a little farther away than I would have expected but the drive passes by quickly nonetheless. After a while Eric begins to drive up a long and beautiful stretch of road with gorgeous views of the mountainous terrine all around now bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. Dylan requests several times that we listen to the new Chemical Brother’s CD and each time Eric patiently reminds him that he doesn’t even own it, let alone just happen to have it in his car with him at that very moment.

Clearly quite inebriated, Dylan is more than happy to do most of the talking on the way there with Eric and I chiming in here and there with the occasional comment, joke or question. Eric would later inform me that Dylan dominating the conversation like that was a rare occurrence that usually only happened when he had a few drinks in him.

Like Eric, Dylan is a smart guy, that much is obvious and even in his drunken haze is easily able to make evident both his intellect and extensive vocabulary. The relationship between the boys is a close one, I pick up on that quickly, and I can see why they get along so well, both being intelligent and possessing a similar dark sense of humor. Several times I find myself doubled over in my seat, laughing as I listen to the two of them going back and fourth at one another verbally.

We park just far enough away from Dylan’s house that we are reasonably confident the car won’t be heard dropping him off. Eric switches off the ignition and I hear Dylan clear his throat behind me. “Hey, Lucy, your friend Laura... “he pauses for a moment. Even with what should be a healthy dose of liquid courage in him it seems hard to get the words out.“She’s single... isn’t she?”

“You’re too good for her, Dylan. Trust me.”

“Me? Too good for her?” He omits a quick snort of derision.“Yeah, right... You just don’t think she’d give me a shot, do you?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Hey, it’s cool, don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’d probably be right anyway.” Dylan shrugs and smiles in a way that makes him seem a lot shyer than he had up until this point. “I was just wondering if she was dating anyone right now is all.” I notice another thing he and Eric seem to have in common.

None of us speak for a couple of seconds before Eric decides that he’ll be the one to finally break the silence. “Forget her man,” he scoffs. There’s nothing but complete disdain in his voice as he unceremoniously adds; “Besides, the rumor I heard from Brooks is that she supposedly has a dick anyway.”

I stare open-mouthed at Eric as Dylan begins to cackle loudly in the backseat, slapping a hand up and down on his knee as he does.

Soon the three of us have dissolved into near hysterics, partially at Dylan’s reaction to the alleged rumor alone. “Did Brooks really tell you that?” he asks, between fits of laughter, wiping a tear from his eye.

“Maybe,” Eric shrugs, producing a half empty box of cigarettes from his pocket. “I don’t remember. Brooks says a lot of shit.”

“Dude, I really wish you two stubborn fucks would just kiss and make up already,” Dylan complains.There’s a slight but notable tinge of sadness in his voice as he does so.

“Oh, I’m sure that fag would love nothing more than to have an excuse to try and kiss me,” Eric replies. “Unfortunately, for his sorry ass, I don’t swing that way.” He pulls out a lone cigarette and offers it toward the backseat.

“Thanks, man,” Dylan says, taking it gratefully. “You know, Brooks said he doesn’t even know why you’re mad at him this time.”

“Oh, that fucker knows,” Eric informs us. “Believe me, Brooks knows goddamn well why I’m fucking mad at him!”

Dylan rolls his eyes. “Whatever, man, I tried,” he sighs, throwing his hands up in defeat before slumping back into his chair. I hear the flick of a lighter followed by a deep inhale. A cloud of smoke drifts toward the front of the car.

Eric pulls out two more cigarettes, placing them between his lips. He lights them both then passes one to me.

I offer Dylan the use of a bottle of perfume that I have in my purse, to try and somewhat mask the smell of alcohol on him, but he declines. “If I am caught sneaking back in at this ungodly hour I don’t need the added question of why I happen to stink of women’s perfume.”

“You tell your Mom you were busy out getting ass all over Denver,” Eric tells him.“And that you don’t appreciate her trying to meddle in your personal affairs, sexual or otherwise.”

Dylan looks at Eric as though he just suggested he amputate a limb for fun. “Oh sure,” he laughs, “While I’m at it I might as well just tell her all about NB-.”

Eric quickly turns in his chair, shooting his friend an unexpectedly dark look. “I’m sure your Mom knows all about the NBA, Dylan. She loves basketball.”

“Right,” Dylan nods his head vigorously. “Basketball. Loves it. Can’t get enough of the stuff.” The alcohol seems to have begun to suddenly disagree with him. He looks a little paler now, almost slightly nauseous as he sits there in the backseat.

Eric buries his face in his hand and sighs heavily, shaking his head back and fourth. “Sweet Mary, Mother of God...” Neither of them says anything and for just a moment a strange sort of tension seems to hang heavy in the air.

“Speaking of,” Dylan says, finally breaking it as he glances back and fourth between the two of us. “You two wouldn’t be planning on doing anything the good Lord wouldn’t approve of later tonight, now would you?”

“What the fuck are you even talking about?!” Eric’s voice is razor sharp and thick with sudden irritation.

“You guys know it’s important to remain pure for Christ, don’t you?” Dylan continues, looking as though butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. “Premarital sex is-.”

“Dude!” Eric snaps, but I can tell he’s fighting back laughter now. “Enough! You have exactly five seconds to get your drunk, eight foot tall, cock-blocking ass out of my car, before I throw you out of it! And you can take that Jesus crap with you on the way out!”

“I’d love to see you try to throw me anywhere, Harris!” Dylan clambers awkwardly out of the car and onto the street, nearly losing his balance before catching himself on the frame of the door.  
“I’d snap you like a fucking pencil.”

“Maybe that’s what you think, Klebold,” Eric scoffs. “I would fucking destroy you.”

“Really?” Dylan asks. “All four foot seven of you would destroy me, huh?”

I sit there in stunned silence for a moment before the two of them begin to laugh hysterically.

“Oh, the fucking gloves are about to come off now, man!” Eric grins then suddenly gets a look on his face that tells me he thinks he has a good one.

He goes to say something else but Dylan has noticed the look himself and cuts him off, offering us a cheery; “Night, guys, don’t do anything I would do!”before slamming the car door shut behind him.

We watch Dylan walk all the way up to the front of his driveway where he waves his final goodbye at us before we drive off.

The distance from Dylan’s house to mine is relatively shorter. I must be more tired than I realize, drifting off twice, only to be awoken by Eric suddenly turning up the stereo to a deafening volume, laughing as I jolt awake in my seat. He soon grows bored with this and the third time I nod off, takes mercy on me, finally allowing me to fall asleep peacefully next to him as he drives.

The next thing I’m aware of is Eric gently nudging me. The car has stopped again. “Wake up, Lucy.” My eyes flutter open to find him staring at me, smiling as he watches me sit up in my chair.

“Hi.”

“Hi yourself, welcome back.” Eric traces the tips of his fingers down the side of my cheek and sleepily I lay my face into his hand. It’s borderline bizarre to me how comfortable I’ve come to feel with him already.

“We’re here.”

“Where’s here?”

“Here is just outside your house, unfortunately.”

“What time is it?” I ask, still a little groggy from my unexpected nap. 

“Nearly four in the morning. You sure you want to try and sneak back in this late?”

“Yeah, Dad should still be working and my Mom has surely put herself in her usual wine induced coma by now. I should be fine.”

“You could always come to my house,” he offers. “If you wanted to.”

“What if your parents caught us?”

He starts to absentmindedly play with a strand of my hair. “So, what if they did?”

“You think they’d just be cool with it?”

“Well, no,” he admits. “Probably not. I just... I just really... don’t...”

“Really don’t what?”

“....want you to get out of the car,” he finally manages. 

“Woah, okay, calm down there, Ted Bundy!” 

He rolls his eyes at me. “Hey, old Teddy might have had an idea or two...”

I take his hand again. Another squeeze.  
“I don’t want to leave you either, you know.”

“You don’t?” The radio is turned down low, barely audible but still on.

“No, Eric, of course I don’t.

We stare at one another through the darkness of the car. Then we’re kissing again. Slower now, deeper, more passionate. Carrying on longer than we probably should considering our location and the time of night. I manage to pull away from him after both several minutes and the same amount of attempts. I give him one last long lingering kiss goodbye before climbing out of the car, a small army of butterflies still fluttering in my stomach.

Eric rolls down the passenger side window and leans over in his seat. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Go for it.”

“You do... really like me, don’t you?”

I stare at him blankly. “What gave me away?”

“Okay, smartass, I guess what I’m really trying to ask is... “

“Yes?”

“Are you still going to like me at school on Monday? Or will you pretend not to hear me when I say hi to you in the hallway? Act like you don’t even know who I am when I try and sit next to you in the commons?” I don’t know whether or not he intends to hurt my feelings, but he does.

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and find out, won’t you?”

“I guess so,” he says a little sadly. “I’m still sorry we never got to go up into the mountains tonight, though.”

“That’s okay. We still can.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, of course. Raincheck, remember?”

“Right,” he smiles. “I remember.”

“And you still have my number?”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the slightly crumpled piece of notebook paper he’d hastily scribbled my phone number down on, holding it up. “Right here.”

“You better use it, Harris.”

“I will,” he assures me with a nod. “I’ll call you tomorrow. I promise.”

“I’m really glad we hung out tonight, Eric. I’m glad we did this.”

“So am I,” he says, that slow mischievous grin beginning to spread across his face again. “Even if you did end up just being a total little cock-tease in the end.”

I stare at him open-mouthed for a second, watching his smile grow even wider. “You know something, Eric? You really-.”

I freeze, suddenly aware of the porch light flickering on behind me. It feels as though my heart has all but stopped beating by the time I hear the key turn in the front door. Right before it opens. Now it’s Eric’s words from earlier that I hear in my head. They come to me suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere. And seem far more appropriate for this situation than the one they’d actually been spoken in;

‘Fuck! Fuck! Fuckity! Fuck! FUUCCK!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry about the NBA thing. I couldn’t help myself. 😂


	3. Mr. Bigglesworth

I’m out in the garden, up to my elbows in hot soapy water when I hear my Mom’s voice coming from the hall.

“Lucy, phone call for you!” 

I stand up, sighing as I toss the sponge back down into the bucket. 

Heading back inside, I find myself grinning like an idiot, already knowing who is on the other line before I even pick up the phone. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, Lucy goosey.” 

The sound of his voice is enough to bring another immediate smile to my face. 

I glance quickly over my shoulder to make sure my Mom is still in the other room. 

“Who the fuck is this?” 

He laughs softly down the other end of the phone, suddenly making me miss him far more than I could have thought possible. 

“Forgotten me already, huh?” 

“Of course not,” I reply. “So, how’s it hanging, asshole?” 

Another laugh. 

“Low and to the left,” he says. 

“What about you? How bad was the damage last night?” 

“Not too bad, I guess, considering,” I sigh into the phone. 

“I’m grounded for two weeks and have a mile long list of chores they want me to do, but that’s about it.” 

“That fucking sucks,” he commiserates. 

“Tell me about it. My Mom has me out scrubbing the windows as we speak...”

“Well, you better put your damn back into it then, Lucy, hadn’t you?” 

Another smile. 

“Fuck you, Harris.” 

“Sounds good. When are you available?”

My face grows hot as I feel myself begin to blush. 

Another quick glance, just to make sure she’s not standing behind me. 

“Two weeks from now.” 

“Oh fuck that shit! Can’t you just sneak out again tonight when they’re asleep?”

“Eric, I-.”

“Vodka and I are planning on going on a little reconnaissance mission later tonight,” he informs me. 

“And I was hoping your beautiful self could tag along with us.” 

I consider it for a moment before replying. 

“I really shouldn’t...” 

“But you’re going to anyway, aren’t you?” 

“I don’t know if that’s such a go-.”

“Aren’t you?” he repeats. 

“....Yes.” 

“Good girl, I’ll be over to pick you up around one, that okay?” 

Something about the way he calls me that leaves me feeling weak. 

It’s like ‘Sweetheart’ all over again. 

“Okay,” I agree, suddenly feeling powerless to do or say otherwise. 

“Great! I’ll see you then...”

Even though we’re talking on the phone I can tell he’s smiling, too. 

“....I’ll be counting down the seconds.” 

“Oh, and Lucy?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Be sure to wear all black, okay?” 

Before I can ask why, he’s already hung up the phone. 

I tell my Mother I’m going to bed early. 

She’s already on her fourth glass of wine by now so I’m reasonable confident I may actually get away with it this time. 

I take a long hot shower and listen to Rammstein while I get ready. 

Taking a final look at myself in the mirror, I fix my hair and smooth down the front of my shirt before undoing then redoing the same two buttons a couple of times. 

Why am I so fucking nervous? 

It’s 12:50a.m. 

I hear the sound of a pebble hit my bedroom window, then another. 

My heart starts to beat a little bit faster. 

I’m careful to be as quiet as is humanly possible when I close the bedroom window shut behind me. 

Outside in the dark, I can just about make out Eric’s car parked down the street from my house. 

And his silhouette, leaning up against the side of it as a trail of smoke billows upward toward a clear night sky. 

He turns toward me, presumably at the sound of my footsteps, as I approach. 

I’m met with a wide smile and am pulled into a hug, his arms wrapping around my body before holding me tightly against his own.

“I know it’s only been a couple of hours and I hate to sound all mushy and pathetic and all...”

His voice is low, soft and sweet as we embrace once more beneath the moonlight. 

“....but damn, I fucking missed you.” 

Butterflies. Goddamn butterflies. 

His hands find my waist and before I can even register what’s happening, he’s picking me up and spinning me around in a circle. 

“I can see that, Eric!” I laugh, my hands resting on his shoulders as he lowers me down, allowing my feet to touch solid ground once more. 

Then my hand seems to move almost of it’s own accord before reaching upward and caressing his cheek.

“I missed you, too, fuckface.” 

“Oh Christ on a fucking bike! I don’t have all night, you guys!” Dylan shouts impatiently from the window.

“Come on, Romeo and Juliet! Get in before you sappy fuckers make me hurl all over the front of Reb’s car!”

Dylan is riding shotgun this time. 

We listen to a mix CD he brought with him as we drive and I realize the two of us have quite similar taste in music. 

Eric himself alternates between liking some tracks and outright dismissing others that he refers to as “pussy tunes.”

Soon we pull up on a deserted street, beside a row of large, expensive looking houses with perfectly manicured lawns. 

The car comes to a halt and Eric turns around in his seat to look at me. 

“Hey, Lucy, do me a favor and pass me that box on the ground by your feet.” 

I look down at the floor, only now noticing the cardboard box that’s down there, hidden in the dark behind Dylan’s chair. 

I pick it up and pass it to him, watching as he pulls out a couple of rolls of toilet paper, a small carton of eggs, a can of spray paint and several dozen firecrackers, one after the other. 

“This is gonna be so fucking fun!” Dylan gleefully tells us, rubbing his hands together almost maniacally. “I can’t wait!” 

Then Eric pulls out something else from the bottom of the box. Something metallic and shiny. 

He tosses it back and fourth from one hand to the other. 

I feel the breath completely knocked out of me as I slowly begin to realize what it is. 

“Eric...” 

My voice comes out as little more than a whisper from the backseat of the car. 

He and Dylan are both looking back at me now, matching smiles on their faces.

“... is that a fucking gun?!” 

“Yep,” he says, in a very matter of fact kind of way. “It sure is.” 

He spins in his chair, gripping the gun in his right hand and points it suddenly towards the backseat. 

“Say your fucking prayers!”

“Don’t point that thing at me, Eric!” I scream, suddenly horrified. 

“Jesus Christ! Where the fuck did you even get that?!” 

The two of them just stare at me. 

Then they begin to laugh. 

Hard. 

I look back and fourth between the two of them, too shocked to even speak for a moment. 

“Hey, relax,” Eric smiles at me before throwing the gun back into the box with his other “supplies.” 

“It’s just a BB gun.” 

It takes another few seconds before I’m able to form words. 

“You’re a fucking dick!” 

They continue to laugh. 

My heart is still racing. 

“Fuck the two of you!” I open the car door and climb out. 

“I’m going home!” I angrily inform them before slamming the door shut behind me

“Lucy, wait!” Eric calls out, but I’m too angry to care. 

Turning away from the car, I begin to walk in the opposite direction, back towards my house. 

Another cold night. 

I immediately begin to regret my decision to wear such a flimsy shirt and no jacket. 

The Honda turns around and immediately begins to follows me back up the street. 

Eric’s window is rolled all the way down as he leans his head out. 

“Lucy, I’m sorry, alright?”

I ignore him.

“Please just get back in the damn car.”

I shoot him a quick look of annoyance before continuing onward. 

“Lucy, don’t fucking be like this! Please!”

“Fuck you!” I shout, too irritated in the current moment to even contemplate saying or doing anything else. 

“He was just joking!” Dylan shouts back from the other side of the car. 

“God, don’t be such a fucking bitch.” 

“You shut your Goddamn mouth, Klebold!” Eric snaps. 

“I was just-.” 

“I don’t give a shit! Don’t fucking talk about her like that, alright, dude?!”

Eric turns his attention back to me. 

“Look, I said I was sorry, okay? Just get back in and we can talk about it.”

I’m a little touched by the speed at which he jumped to my defense but still, the thing with the gun freaked me out. 

Badly.

And I want to make him suffer just a little bit longer for it.

“Not interested,” I tell him. 

“Fine,” he sighs. “I fucking tried.”

“Have fun walking home!”

Then he’s driving past me. 

I stop waking and stand there motionless in the road as I watch the car drive down the street, around the corner and out of sight. 

I can’t believe that son of a bitch actually drove off! 

I light a cigarette as I continue to walk home, silently cursing myself for ever even having talked to him last night. 

What the hell was I even thinking going off with him in his car like that? 

To think I actually thought he was special. 

Different somehow.

That we could actually have something. 

And where had that feeling gotten me? 

Walking home alone, freezing my fucking ass off, feeling nothing but anger and pure embarrassment.

Well, fuck Eric Harris. 

I’m done with him. 

I have just about made up my mind that I’m never going to speak to him again when the gray Honda prelude reappears at the end of the street. 

I get back in the car, defeatedly, without saying a word to either of them, seething quietly in the back as I continue to smoke. 

I can see the two of them looking at me but I continue to silently stare straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge either of them. 

Eric looks over at Dylan as if silently pleading with him to tell him what to say or do next to fix the situation. 

Dylan doesn’t seem to know either, simply shrugging at his friend in response. 

“Lucy, I’m sorry that I scared you like that. I was just fucking around,” he says. 

“And Dylan said he was really sorry he called you a bitch, right, man?” 

“Did I?” Dylan yawns, stretching his arms out in front of him, looking somewhat bored by the conversation.

“Or did I say I was sorry that she is a bitch?”

“Dude, I swear to fucking God!” 

“Look, it’s fine, guys. I don’t give a shit.”

The two of them look back at me again. 

“Let’s just do what we fucking came here to do and go tee-pee the shit out of some houses, alright?” 

As we approach the first house, I start to shiver slightly. Eric notices and without saying a word, shrugs his jacket from his shoulders before helping me into it. 

And suddenly I can’t even remember why I was mad at him in the first place. 

While Eric is otherwise occupied gluing someone’s mailbox shut, Dylan and I begin to tee-pee a large tree in the front yard. 

“I can’t get any over the top branches,” I complain, repeatedly trying to throw the roll of toilet paper over the same few branches. 

“That’s cause you’re a fucking midget just like Eric is. Come here, I can help.” 

The next thing I know Dylan is holding me up in the air by my hips, lifting me as though I weighed little more than a feather. 

“Throw it now,” he tells me. 

I do and the toilet paper goes exactly where I want it to before falling back down on the other side of the tree. 

“Success!” Dylan cries, before placing me back down on the soft grass beneath us. 

“Teamwork is dreamwork,” I smile, offering up my hand for a quick high five. 

He slaps his hand against mine, the two of us grinning at one another as we stand beneath the newly decorated tree. 

He suddenly takes his gaze away, looking down at the ground a little shyly. 

Looking back up at me he starts to say something but stops as Eric runs over from across the yard. 

Dylan looks at him, wide-eyed. 

“You guys, I just shoved about fifty firecrackers in some asshole’s fucking mailbox!” Eric laughs. 

“That sucker is gonna blow any second. Let’s get the fuck outta here!” 

We hit another couple of random houses before heading back to the car sans toilet paper and firecrackers. 

Eric takes a bag of empty glass bottles from the trunk of his car and lines them up along a wall before retrieving the BB gun from the car. 

Dylan goes first, firing off several pellets before he finally hits one. 

Eric goes next, missing his first target, then the second.

“Goddamn it!” 

“You suck, Harris!” Dylan shouts. 

Eric raises an eyebrow at him before firing again. 

This time he hits the bottle and the noise of the shattering glass rings through the night. 

He blows away the small waft of smoke that’s drifting from the barrel before turning to Dylan and shrugging his shoulders, a cocky grin on his face. 

“Whatever, man,” Dylan rolls his eyes.

“Is it my turn yet?” I ask. 

Eric smiles almost indulgently at me as he walks over, BB gun in hand.

“You ever used one of these before?” he asks, handing it to me.

Before I can answer, he’s already behind me, reaching around, he lifts my arms up a little higher.

“There you go, just try and aim slightly above the bottle itself,” he tells me. 

“Just widen your stance a little bit.” 

I do as he says, leaning back just enough so I can press my ass up against his crotch. 

“Like that?” I ask him, starting to wiggle ever so slightly. 

He brings his hands up and rests them on my hips, pulling me back slightly more towards him. 

“Just like that, baby,” he sighs. “Perfect.” 

I squeeze the trigger and the bottle shatters into a thousand tiny pieces. 

“Woah!” Eric says. “Good job!” 

“Lucky shot,” Dylan mutters. 

I fire again, several times in quick succession and by the time I’m done five of the eight bottles on the wall are now nothing more than shards of broken glass littered all over the ground. 

“Holy fucking shit!” Eric laughs. “We’ve got a regular Annie fucking Oakley over here! Goddamn!” 

I grin at him before blowing the billowing smoke from the barrel just as he did a few minutes before. 

“What was that about a lucky shot, Dylan?” I ask. 

“How the fuck did you manage to do that?!” 

He’s shaking his head back and fourth slowly in disbelief, wearing a similar expression to Eric, as the two of them stare at the shattered glass all around.

“My Dad is a cop and a little bit of a gun nut. He’s been taking me shooting with him since I was big enough to hold a rifle on my own.” 

“You never told me your Dad was a cop,” Eric says. 

“You never asked.” 

“You wanna watch yourself there, Reb,” Dylan smirks. “Her Daddy is a pig.” 

I point the BB gun at him. “Careful, Dylan.”

“There you are, you fucking little shits!” a loud voice suddenly bellows.

“You bastards thought you’d get away with destroying my garden, did you?!” 

We look up to see a tall, very angry looking middle aged man running towards us. 

“Oh fuck!” Dylan says. “Run!” 

I’m so busy staring at the man running towards us that when I turn to run myself, I forget what I’m doing and accidentally squeeze the trigger again. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Eric suddenly screams. 

“You fucking shot me!” 

I stand there frozen for a few seconds in horror before Eric’s hand is wrapped around my wrist. 

“Come on, Lucy, move your ass! We need to get the fuck outta here!”

The three of us start to run towards the car with the now very angry stranger hot on our heels. 

“Get back here, you little shits! I’m calling the fucking police!” 

We make it there just in time, slamming the doors shut behind us right as he reaches the car. 

“You fucking cowards come out and face me!” 

I push down the lock just before he grabs the handle and tries to pull the door open, peering in at me, his face a mask of fury. 

Eric starts up the car and we tear off down the street like a bat out of Hell.

The man runs along after us for a couple of seconds, shaking a fist in the air and screaming words that none of us can hear anymore, before giving up. 

“That was fucking close,” Eric says through gritted teeth. 

“Yeah, it was,” Dylan agrees. “Do you think he followed us there?” 

“He must have,” Eric says before looking back at me in the mirror. 

“I still can’t believe you fucking shot me!” 

“I’m so sorry, Eric.”

“Sorry doesn’t take the fucking BB pellet out of my ass now, does it?” 

“She got you in the ass?” Dylan asks, fighting the temptation to smile. 

“Well, no, I think she just grazed it but Goddamn it hurts like a son of a bitch!”

I feel awful for hurting him, accidentally or otherwise, but as Dylan and I lock eyes in the mirror in front, it becomes painfully difficult for us both to suppress the urge to laugh. 

We drive Dylan home for the second night in a row, listening to music and the occasional grumble from Eric about his “poor ass.” 

He turns up the radio.

‘ _The me that you know._

_ He had some second thoughts.  _

_ He’s covered with scabs.  _

_ He is broken and sore.  _

_ The me that you know.  _

_ He doesn't come around much. _

_That part of me isn't here anymore.._.’ 

Dylan reaches over and turns it up louder. 

“Man, I fucking love this one.”

After he gets out of the car he gestures for me to roll my window down, then crouches down to look inside while he speaks to us. 

“I’m sorry I called you a bitch, Lucy,” he says, offering me somewhat of a lost puppy-dog expression. 

“Honestly, I just kind of assumed that you would be because of who you hang out with but you’re actually a pretty cool chick.” 

“That’s okay, Dylan, don’t worry about it, besides, I can be a bitch at times, believe me.” 

“Oh, I can totally vouch for that statement,” Eric says from behind me, earning himself a quick elbow to the ribs for his trouble. 

“But thanks for saying that anyway, Dylan, you’re a nice guy.” 

“Why don’t you two just get fucking married then?” Eric asks, a mild hint of annoyance in his voice. 

“Since you love each other so damn much and all.”

“I’m game if she is,” Dylan smirks. 

“You keep your gigantic fucking hands off of her, Vodka,” Eric warns him. 

“She’s mine.” 

“I think you’re safe there, man,” Dylan says, and once again I notice a tinge of sadness in his words. 

“She’s only got eyes for you anyway by the looks of things...” 

He laughs before adding, “Even if she did end up shooting you in the ass.” 

Eric and I sit in the car together, smoking, now parked once again down the street from my house. 

“I think Dylan might be a little jealous about the two of us being a thing now,” he admits, flicking the ash of his cigarette out the window. 

“He wasn’t very happy when I told him you were coming along with us tonight.” 

“Really? That sucks. I thought he liked me.” 

I take another drag. 

“Oh, I think he does, too,” Eric assures me. “Now that he’s gotten to know you a little better. I mean, how could he not?” 

“I am pretty fantastic,” I agree.

“And as modest as ever,” he smiles. 

“Well, I’m glad he came around to me in the end. Thanks for bringing me along tonight, Eric. I had a lot of fun.” 

“So did I,” he says.

“Hell, it was almost worth nearly losing an asscheek over.”

The two us start to laugh, but I suddenly feel bad about it all over again. 

It must be killing him by now. 

Especially having to drive afterwards. 

“Why don’t you come inside for a few minutes and let me have a look at it?” 

“Lucy, if you wanted to see my ass this whole time all you had to do was ask...” 

The two of us hoist ourselves up on top of the wall by the side of my house before pulling ourselves up onto the roof. 

I open my bedroom window, again being careful to do so quietly, before we slip inside. 

Eric goes first and offers me a hand down as I climb in after him. 

“I can’t believe I’m in your bedroom,” he says, glancing around the room, a small smile on his lips.

“Yeah, well don’t get too excited,” I smile back. 

“You’re here strictly for the purpose of receiving first aid, Harris, don’t go getting any funny ideas.”

“Of course not,” he gasps, pretending to be offended by the very notion. “I’d never dream of such a thing.”

“If only you had a sexy little nurse costume to put on while you administer the treatment, though,” he sighs. 

“It’d make me feel a hell of a lot better.” 

“I’m afraid I don’t, you’ll just have to make do with what I have on, unfortunately.”

“That’s okay, you could be wearing a damn garbage bag and I’m pretty sure you’d still be able to get me all hot and bothered.”

”I go tta admit you did kinda get me going back there when you were shooting that damn thing...”

“Only you would still be horny after taking a pellet full of lead to the backside, Eric.” 

He laughs as he begins to walk around the room, taking in his surroundings. 

“I think that says more about you than it does me,” he says, leaning down to peruse the contents of my bookcase. 

“I’m going to run downstairs really quick and grab some stuff to clean you up with.”

“You take off your pants and lay down on the bed.” 

“Oh, yes, Ma’am!” he grins, quickly beginning to undo his belt. 

“With pleasure! Right away!”

I roll my eyes at him before leaving the room but on my way down the stairs find myself grinning from ear to ear.

A minute or so later, I head back upstairs with some bandages and disinfectant. 

When I get back, Eric is standing by the bed in a pair of plaid boxers, holding my childhood stuffed toy in his hands, smiling down at it. 

“I see you’ve met Mr. Bigglesworth.”

“Mr. Bigglesworth, really?” he smirks, placing the stuffed toy back down on the bed.

“Ah, yes, he was just telling me about how great it is living in your room. Getting to watch you get dressed every morning, walking around in just an itty bitty towel after you get out of the shower...”

“Mr. Bigglesworth would never say that,” I insist, feigning disgust.

“He’s a gentleman. A bear of class and sophistication.” 

“Is that so?” he chuckles.

“Yes, it is. Now lose the boxers and lay down.” 

“So fucking demanding,” Eric rolls his eyes, a habit I think he may be picking up from me, but he’s still grinning as he slides his boxers down. 

He was right, the pellet only grazed him and after cleaning the wound with a damp cloth and applying a little disinfectant, he’s good to go. 

As he climbs up off the bed I find it difficult to restrain myself and end up taking a quick peek down between his legs while he’s sliding his boxers back up. 

My jaw almost hits the floor. 

I glance up at him quickly, hoping he didn’t notice but his face tells me the opposite is true. 

“Like what you see, huh?” he grins, far too pleased with himself at both my reaction and having caught me looking in the first place.

Yes. Yes I do.

“Shut up,” I tell him, but I can feel myself starting to blush again

“How do I compare to old Scotty boy, then?” he asks.

“I honestly wouldn’t know.”

He cocks his head to the side and raises his eyebrows at me, seemingly surprised.

”You mean you two never...” his voice trails off.

I shake my head. “Nope, never.” 

“What about with anyone else?” he asks.

“I’ve never been with anyone like that before,” I admit, suddenly feeling slightly self-conscious. 

He stares at me for a second or two before taking my hand in his and squeezing it, smiling at me, softly now.

“Neither have I.”

For a long moment, neither of us says anything.

We stand there in my bedroom together, hand in hand and simply stare at one another, wordlessly.

The air around us feels nothing short of electric. 

And I know we’re both thinking the exact same thing.

The next thing I know, our lips are touching once more, and there’s an urgency there now, a passion, a need, that is almost overwhelming.

And soon we find ourselves on the bed, kissing one another with as much passion as we can muster as we roll around together on the mattress. 

His tongue slides into my mouth as his hands begin to roam my body, groping and exploring. 

He feels incredible. This feels incredible. 

And although I hadn’t planned on us doing this tonight it feels too good to even consider the idea of stopping now.

He starts to kiss my neck and I can barely suppress the moans that long to fall from my lips. 

I grab his face between both my hands as he lays atop me and kiss him deeply, suddenly very aware of the fact that he’s enjoying this just as much as I am. 

Feeling just how much he’s enjoying it, pressed against my thigh. 

His fingers begin to fumble at the button of my pants before he pauses to look up at me, pupils fully blown, lips slightly swollen from our aggressive make out session. 

“Is this okay?” 

I nod my head and he kisses me again before undoing my pants and sliding them down along my hips.

In this moment I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything, need him more than the very oxygen that fills my lungs.

His fingers find their way between my legs and he begins to rub through the thin cloth of my underwear. 

“Fuck...” 

He smirks before he says the same thing I’d responded to him with the night before. 

“Is that what you wanna do?” 

“Well, I don’t want you to fucking stop, that’s for sure...”

“God, Lucy,” he groans, sliding a hand down beneath the fabric itself now. 

“I want you so fucking bad, it’s driving me crazy...” 

Then his fingers are inside me, his lips are on my neck again and all I feel is pure euphoria coursing through my veins like liquid fire. 

My arms are wrapped around his back as he plants slow teasing kisses down the length of my neck, along my collarbones. 

His fingers continue to thrust in and out as a series of soft moans now falls freely from my lips. 

He brings his other hand up to my throat and his fingers wrap gently around my neck, applying just the slightest bit of pressure. 

Just enough.

Our lips collide yet again and he kisses me deeply before pulling his mouth away just long enough to ask the question. 

“Mind if I take these off?” 

I shake my head, now seemingly too lost in my own bliss to even form a coherent sentence.

He slides my underwear down along my thighs, then peels them off completely before tossing them carelessly across the room. 

Now, with his head between my legs, all thought of turning back is long gone. 

I run my hands through his hair as he begins to go to work, arching my back and lifting my hips from the mattress, desperate to feel more of this, more of him, as the pleasure builds and builds and builds. 

This is amazing. 

He is amazing.

And God help me, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get enough of either.

My eyes flutter open momentarily and I see him glancing up at me. 

The sight alone almost enough to bring me over the edge right then and there. 

“Oh My God, Eric, please don’t stop....”

His pace picks up at the sound of my words.

It isn’t much longer before he drives me over the edge completely, crying out his name as he reduces me to little more than a moaning, convulsing mess on the bed beneath him. 

He looks up at me again, now smiling somewhat smugly. 

“That was....fucking incredible, Eric.” 

“Hey, I aim to please.”

“I think it’s your turn now,” I tell him, propping myself up on my elbows, legs suddenly turned to jelly. 

“Are you sure?” he asks. “Don’t feel like you have to just because I-.”

“I want to, Eric.” 

He lays on the bed on his back and watches me intently as I begin to pull his boxers down along the length of his legs. 

“Damn, Lucy...” 

That’s when I hear the sound of my Mom’s footsteps coming up the stairs. 

“Lucy, what’s going on in there?”

Eric and I look at one another, wide-eyed, before I push him off the bed and onto the floor at the other side. 

“Owww!” he groans. 

I hastily pull the blanket over the now naked lower half of my body just seconds before the door to my room opens. 

“Lucy, are you okay?” my Mom asks, peering in from behind the corner of the door, a look of concern on her face. 

“I thought I heard you crying from downstairs.”

I hear Eric start to snicker quietly and clear my throat loudly to try and cover it. 

“No, Mom, I wasn’t crying. I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” 

“Are you sure? You’re not upset about me grounding you, are you?”

“No, Mom, I understand why you did it.” 

“Maybe I was a little harsh,” she says. “You really are a good kid, Lucy.”

“Tell you what, how about you just finish that list of chores I gave you and we’ll forget about the whole grounded thing?” 

“Okay, sounds good, thanks, Mom.” 

“Alright, I’m going back to bed, you try and get some sleep, alright?”

“Will do.” 

Goodnight, cupcake.”

“Night, Mom.”

She smiles at me, then heads back out into the hall. 

I sit there, frozen in place, listening to the sounds of her footsteps grow fainter and fainter before I dare move a single muscle. 

“Is the coast clear, cupcake?” Eric whispers up at me from the floor. 

“I hate to break it to you, Lucy, but I think we may have just traumatized poor Mr. Biggglesworth for life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may be going to Hell for writing this but I’m sure I’ll see some of you there...
> 
> I’ll bring the sangria.


	4. Fast Times At Columbine High

Rearranging the books in my locker, I’m wondering if I have time for another quick smoke before Biology, when suddenly I’m accosted by a pair of hands covering my eyes.

“Guess who?”

“Brad Pitt?” I gasp. “Is that you?”

“Oh Brad! I always knew you’d come for me some day!”

“What? Fuck no!”

Turning on my heels, I’m elated to be met with his handsome, smiling face once again.

“What’s that asshole Brad Pitt got that I don’t, huh?” 

“Millions of dollars in his bank account for a start...” 

“Oh yeah,” he agrees, with a nod of his head, hazel eyes now twinkling mischievously.

“That he does...” 

He leans in so our faces are now just inches apart.

“But was Brad Pitt the one who made your toes curl and your eyes roll back in your head last night while-.”

“Eric!” I stop him there, glancing around the bustling hall to see if anyone is listening.

“Neither the time nor the place, but point well made!” 

“Well, good,” he smiles, taking a step forward, forcing me to step backward myself so that I’m now pressed up against my locker.

He places a hand up either side of me, pinning me between himself and the wall of lockers at my back.

Staring into my eyes, his body this close to mine, my mind immediately flashes back to the night before.

How close I’d felt to him.

How wonderful it felt just to have him there in my room with me.

Finally alone together, in the private sanctuary of my bedroom, far away from the outside world and all the bullshit that comes along with it.

And then of course, there was what had come after...

Before my Mom had burst in and killed the vibe faster than a priest at an orgy, that is.

“I don’t want that fucker Brad Pitt to come along and try to steal my cupcake.”

I laugh, but am stunned I don’t strain an eye muscle from rolling them so hard.

“Eric, please drop the damn cupcake thing...” 

“But why?” he whines. “It’s so fitting.”

“You’re cute as a cupcake and taste just as delicious...” He brings two fingers up to his lips and sticks his tongue between them, quickly wiggling it up and down.

“Jesus Christ, Eric! Stop!” 

He starts to laugh before planting one on me right there in the hall.

As our lips crash together, my arms find their way upward to rest on his shoulders and my hands link behind his neck as he deepens the kiss.

God, he’s fucking perfect...

Once again, my knees feel weak, almost as though they could give out from under me right then and there.

His mouth and body in such close proximity to mine is almost intoxicating.

“Alright! Alright!” he chuckles, finally managing, unfortunately, to tear his lips from mine.

“Come on, Lucy goosey, I’m gonna walk you to class.”

“Now that we’re on the subject, I’m not too wild about that nickname either.”

“How about sugar-tits instead, then?”

Another eye roll, but I’m smirking despite myself.

“How about no?”

He laughs, nodding his head.

“Right, so sugar-tits is a no go. You don’t like me calling you cupcake either...”

“What about my Goddess?” he suggests.

“Your Goddess, eh?” I pretend to consider it for a moment. “I could get on board with that one.”

“How about another quick smooch before class then, my Goddess?”

“You’re such a fucking dumbass, Eric...”

Then we’re kissing again as he presses me up against the row of lockers.

I hear a quick gasp to the left of us.

I look over to see Laura and a couple of our friends standing just meters away, looking at us as if they’d just caught us fucking right there in the hall.

“Oh My God!”

Laura is slowly looking back and fourth at the two of us as she begins to analyze the situation in front of her.

“No fucking way!”

I ignore her and turn to acknowledge the other two.

“Hey, Katie, hey, Tiffany, how’s it going?”

Katie and Tiffany look to Laura briefly before deciding to ignore my greeting entirely.

Katie raises an eyebrow as she eyes the two of us up and down. “Really, Lucy?”

“Really, what?”

She makes a slightly disgusted face at the other two before the three of them start to laugh.

“Lucy, why are you making out with that loser?” Laura asks, cocking her head to the side, a shit-eating grin plastered across her face.

One I immediately want to slap right off of her.

Eric furrows his brow, nostrils flaring as he takes a step toward her. I place a hand on his chest, silently pleading with him not to flip out.

“I don’t know, Laura. Why did you make out with my ex-boyfriend at that party the other night?”

Her eyes grow wide.

“I...I don’t know what...”

“Yeah, you do. You know, I couldn’t give a shit where Scott is concerned but I thought you were my friend.”

Her face starts to crumble and for just a fraction of a second I see the girl I used to share secrets and play barbies with.

Then just like that, she’s gone again, and the ice Queen that has come to occupy my best friend’s body resurfaces.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lucy, but if you want to commit social suicide by dating that loser, you’re on your own.”

“Yeah, well, I’d rather commit actual suicide than ever be friends with you again, you fucking bitch.”

She looks at me, shocked for a moment, before starting to respond but I cut her off before she can.

“Why don’t you mind your own damn business and tell your two lemmings to pick their jaws up off the floor while you’re at it?”

I look over at a now grinning Eric before taking his hand in mine. Without saying another word, we continue onward down the hall.

“That dumb bitch is going to regret that,” I hear Laura murmur from behind us. “Just fucking wait and see...”

One of them makes another comment that neither of us can quite make out out before the sound of laughter erupts down the corridor after us.

”Fucking bitches,” Eric mutters. 

“I can’t believe you’re friends with them.”

”Well, I’m not anymore, if it’s any consolation.”

I give his hand a quick, reassuring squeeze.

He squeezes mine back.

Continuing down the hall we’re soon met with Scott and his cronies.

He’s leaning against his locker with a couple of his friends from the football team when we walk past.

“Fuck, Lucy, if I’d known you were that desperate after Scott dumped your ass, I would have gone out with you!”

The braying of hyenas commences.

I turn to look at Scott’s friend, Mark, a particularly slow-witted football player with an alleged steroid addiction.

“Not after letting that reject touch you, though,” he adds, before the group continue to laugh hysterically around him.

Eric looks as though he’s mentally skinning him alive.

I notice his free hand is now curled up into a fist and he’s started to breath a little harder as he stares daggers at the group of guys in front of us.

“Oh no,” I cry, bringing my hands up to cup either side of my face in mock horror.

“If only I had known I could have dated a stud like yourself, I never would have dreamed of doing such a thing.”

Eric still looks annoyed but much to my relief, starts to laugh.

“Still,” I continue. “I can see now that steroids clearly shrink your brain as well as your dick, so maybe I’m not missing out on much there after all.”

The three of them stand there, somewhat stunned for a moment.

Eric’s own expression is similarly surprised.

“Yeah... well...” Mark’s face is now a quite noticeable shade of red as the few brain cells he possesses go into overdrive, desperately trying to form a witty response.

“....he’s a fucking fag anyway!” he finally finishes.

Eric and I look at one another before we both erupt into laughter ourselves.

“Good one, man,” Eric tells him. “You really got me there.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “Sick burn, Mark.”

I give Eric a quick peck on the cheek as if to emphasize the point before we walk away, leaving a trio of somewhat angry and confused football players in our wake.

“I’m sorry about that,” Eric sighs, as we stand outside the Biology lab door, a steady stream of students already flowing inside past us.

I bring a hand up to his face and smile softly at him.

“You have nothing to apologize for. It’s not your fault those guys are assholes, Eric.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says, his voice quieter than usual, almost a little sad.

“But still, I don’t want you to get shit just for being with me.”

“Remember what you said to me the other night at the party about forgetting those assholes?”

He nods, wordlessly.

“Well, you were right, Eric. Who gives a shit what they think? Fuck them, their opinions don’t matter.”

“I know,” he agrees. “I don’t care... I mean, I know I should just forget about them....”

”It’s just...”

“Just what?” I ask.

“They just make me so fucking mad sometimes, Lucy. You have no idea.”

“Don’t let them get to you, Eric. That’s what they want. They just want to get a response out of you.”

“Yeah, well, they might just fucking get it if they’re not careful...” he says, somewhat ominously.

“Please just try and forget about them, okay? For me.”

It takes a second for the expression of anger to dissolve, but it does, his face softens and he manages a small smile.

“Okay, but just because you asked me to.”

The smile widens a little more.

“And because you nearly made Mark’s fucking head explode back there when you said that to him...”

”Hey, I’m not about to go letting those dickheads disrespect the man who made my toes curl and my eyes roll back in my head last night, now, am I?”

He gives me one last, lingering kiss by the doorway before my class starts and he heads off toward his own.

I’m sat in Biology, ignoring the teacher entirely as I doodle absentmindedly in my notebook when I’m suddenly hit in the back of the head.

Looking down at the crumpled ball of paper on the floor by my chair, I glance around the room before I find the culprit.

Laura is looking in the other direction, smiling. I continue to stare at her until she looks back at me.

I offer her a quick one fingered solute and turn back around in my chair.

A few moments later another ball of paper ricochets off my shoulder and I see red.

I’ve had more than enough shit for one day and have finally hit breaking point.

Before I know it, I’m on my feet and walking back through the classroom, towards my former best-friend’s desk.

“Lucy,” the teacher says. “What are yo-.”

Then I’m right in front of her.

I lean in close enough so that only she can hear me.

“You throw one more fucking piece of paper at me and I’ll slam your head down against that desk until your face is nothing but a bloody pulp...”

Her eyes grow wide as the teacher begins to chastise me.

“Lucy! Back in your seat! Now!”

“That freak just threatened me!” Laura shouts. “Miss White, did you hear what she just said to me?!”

Miss White eyes the two of us, suddenly looking very, very tired.

“No, I didn’t! Now Lucy, you sit down, and the two of you be quiet!”

The bell rings and the class ends without further incident. I gather my books from the desk and venture back out into the hall towards my next class.

“Hey, Lucy, wait up!”

I turn to meet with the slightly remorseful looking face of my ex-boyfriend, now on his own, without his group of mindless followers there to back him up.

“Can I have a word?”

“Asshole,” I reply simply. “That’s a word.”

I turn back around and keep walking.

A hand on my shoulder stops me.

“Lucy, I’m sorry about that business in the hall earlier. Mark is a fucking jerk...”

“And you’re not?” I scoff.

“Come on, you can’t think I’m that much of a jerk, can you?” he smiles in a way that makes my skin start to crawl.

“You were my girlfriend not that long ago, remember?”

I shudder exaggeratedly. “Don’t remind me.”

“Are you really dating that Harris dork?” he frowns.

I roll my eyes.

“Why do you even care? I would have thought you were too busy playing tonsil tennis with Laura to even notice.”

He looks at me, surprised for a moment, before a look of sudden realization washes over him.

“So, that’s why you’re dating him. You’re trying to make me jealous.”

I start to laugh and he joins me, likely assuming I’m doing so because he’s just figured out my secret plan to instill envy in him and potentially win him back.

“Oh Scott, you’re fucking hilarious, do you know that?” I tell him, shaking my head in disbelief.

“I don’t give enough of a fuck about you to try and make you jealous.”

He looks genuinely hurt for a moment and I start to feel a little guilty before he eradicates any last shred of compassion I might have had for him.

“You wouldn’t let me touch you, but I bet you’re letting that other weirdo fuck you, aren’t you?”

I don’t even bother to reply this time as I walk away, suddenly feeling extremely mentally drained.

The next two classes pass relatively drama free before it’s finally lunch time.

I make a quick beeline for my locker to grab my purse before heading downstairs to the commons.

Laura, Katie and Tiffany are sat at our usual table, eyeing me like I just walked in stinking of shit.

As I pass by their table, one of them kicks their backpack out in front of me and I almost trip over it, stumbling slightly before catching myself on a chair next to me.

The three of them start to laugh again as I walk away, burning with both embarrassment and anger.

I decide to take the advice I’d given Eric earlier, and simply ignore them as my eyes dart around the cafeteria for a friendly face.

Eric and Dylan are sat at a table by the window with a couple of other guys.

As our eyes lock from across the room, a smile forms on Eric’s face and he begins to wave me over.

“So, there I was, covered in steak sauce with two Rottweilers coming straight for me when-.”

The conversation comes to an abrupt halt as I approach the table.

“Hey,” Eric grins, standing from the table, he pulls out the seat next to him for me to sit down.

“Pussy-whipped,” Dylan coughs, receiving an unamused look from Eric in response.

“Damn, Eric,” one of his friends says, cracking open a can of coke.

“I thought you were just screwing with us but you two are really a thing now, huh?”

“You the man, Harris!”

The group begins to laugh as I take a seat next to Eric, his hand finding mine yet again beneath the table.

Another quick squeeze.

“How the fuck did you manage to pull that one off, man?” another one, who’s name I don’t yet know, chimes in.

“Hypnosis, blackmail, or are you just packing some serious pubic inches that none of us knows about?”

“I bet you’d love to know all about that though, huh, man?” Eric replies, with a wry smile.

It’s hard to ignore the stares we’re now receiving from both his friends and several other tables around us, but neither one of us cares in the slightest.

In fact, I think Eric might even be enjoying it a little.

“Oh fuck!”

I suddenly remember I never got around to finishing that algebra homework I have due for my next class.

I’m in the middle of telling this to Eric when he he stops me.

“Say no more, Lucy, I’ll take care of it.”

“But the class starts in ten minutes and I-.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he smiles before planting another quick peck on my lips.

His friends dissolve into a teasing chorus of “Oooh!”

“Shut the fuck up, you guys,” he tells them, but he’s smirking as he does so.

I’m walking towards my next class, attempting to concoct a believable excuse as to why I haven’t yet finished my assignment when the fire alarm begins to ring.

A voice comes on over the intercom.

“Students, please make your way towards the nearest fire exit in an orderly manner! I repeat, students, please make your way towards the nearest fire exit in an orderly manner!”

I file out into the car park amongst a sea of other students that are now departing the building.

Two jocks from the year below have already taken the opportunity to start picking on a smaller guy on his own by the front steps.

One of them shoves him and he tumbles to the ground as a chorus of hearty laughter rings out from the boys around him.

The principal, just meters away, doesn’t seem to notice as he announces to the crowd of kids in front of him to stay calm.

A pair of familiar hands wrap around my waist from behind.

“I told you I’d take care of it, didn’t I?”

A small gasp leaves my lips as I turn to face him.

“That was you?”

“Hey, I’m not about to go letting the woman who shot me in the ass last night get in trouble for not doing her algebra homework, now, am I?” 

I’m at a complete loss for words.

“I don’t know about you, sugar-tits,” he sighs, “but I don’t exactly feel like sticking around this hellhole for the next couple of hours...”

”Wanna get the fuck out of here?”

Eric and I are driving down the street, away from the school, when a Backstreet Boy’s song comes on the radio.

“Lucy, throw on one of those CDs from the glove compartment, would you?” he asks.

“I can’t listen to that shit.”

“Oh, come on, Eric!” I plead. “I love this one!”

He glances over at me, eyebrows raised so high they could almost touch his hairline.

“You’re shitting me, right?”

“Everybody!” I sing. “Yeah!”

“Lucy, please...” he begs.

“Rock your body, yeah!”

“Please stop,” he begs, but the corners of his lips are beginning to curl up, threatening a smile.

“Everybody, rock your body right!”

“Lucy, I swear-.”

“BACKSTREET’S BACK! ALRIGHT!”

He caves finally, throwing his head back, laughing loudly as he continues to drive.

“Woman, you are a lot of fucking work, do you know that?” he grins.

“You’re lucky you’re so damn adorable.”

Soon we pull up outside an unfamiliar house before Eric tells me to wait in the car, he’ll be quick.

I watch from the window as he knocks on the front door and the smiling stranger who greets him gestures for him to come inside.

A couple of minutes later, he’s back behind the wheel again.

“What was that about?”

He just smiles at me.

“Eric?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Our next stop is the bowling alley. He drives around the back before stopping the car.

I turn to look at him, confused, before he produces a long, thick joint from his pocket, grinning from ear to ear.

“I’m taking you bowling,” he explains. “I thought we might as well go on our first official date.”

He looks so sweet as he says it I can’t resist the urge to lean over and kiss him then and there. He kisses me back before pulling away, looking surprised.

“What was that for?” he smiles.

“Our first official date. You’re so fucking cute, do you know that?”

He shrugs his shoulders.

“I just thought I’d better get it out of the way before that douchebag Brad Pitt blows into Colorado to promote his latest shitty flick and tries to head back to Hollywood with my girl on his arm.”

“Your girl?” I ask, completely helpless to fight the smile that’s now spreading across my face.

“Well, you are, aren’t you?”

“I guess so.”

“Yeah?” he grins, “Like, officially?”

“Only if you ask me properly...”

“Oh,” he says, “never mind then.”

I slap his arm and he starts to laugh at me again as we climb out of the car.

Behind the bowling alley, the strong, sweet smell of marijuana permeates the air as we sit on the trunk, passing the joint back and fourth.

”So, how’s the ass doing today?” I ask, taking a deep drag before passing the joint to him. 

He takes it, chuckling a little before taking a deep drag of his own. 

“I think I’ll manage to survive somehow. Besides, it’s your ass that I’m really interested in.”

Heading inside, now stoned out of our gourds, we’re tittering like school girls on laughing gas as we pick up our shoes from behind the counter.

I head to the bathroom quickly, stopping only briefly to fix my hair and check out my eyes in the mirror above the sink.

The phrase ‘Redder than the devil’s cock’ immediately comes to mind.

When I return, Eric is already situated at the top of one of the lanes, waiting for me.

My bloodshot eyes dart up to the screen above our heads that now reads ‘Reb VS Cupcake.’

Even high, Eric is far better at this particular activity than me and has no qualms about teasing me each and every time I roll a shitty ball.

“Damn, Lucy, you really suck, huh?”

“Shut up, Harris. It’s your fault for rendering me nearly incapacitated before we even started.”

“No, I think you just suck,” he laughs.

“Go on, cupcake. Throw another gutter ball, why don’t you?”

I shoot him a look before picking up another ball.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Eric.”

I stand at the top of the isle, my back to him before glancing back over my shoulder.

“You just watch this.”

“Oh, I will,” he smirks. “You show me how it’s done, baby.”

I throw the ball and now it’s heading straight for the middle of the pins, right down the center of the isle.

I bounce up and down, clapping my hands together in glee before the ball veers off to the side and ends up knocking down just one lowly pin before ending up in the gutter.

Eric begins to laugh raucously behind me.

His hands snake around my waist from behind again.

“Looks like I win this round, cupcake.”

A couple of rounds later, the effects of the weed have began to subside and I’m forced to admit, much to my chagrin, that he is in fact the superior bowler.

By now the school day is almost over and Eric informs me that he’s going to have to make an appearance at home.

“Come with me,” he says, as we walk towards his car.

“I want you to meet my Mom and Dad.”

I pause for a second.

“Do they even know who I am?”

“Of course, my Mom is dying to meet you actually.”

I feel a small wave of panic wash over me at his words.

”Why? What did you tell her about me?” 

“Only good things, don’t worry,” he smiles, taking my hand in his. 

Another squeeze.

“They’re gonna love you, Lucy. I promise.”

Eric waits in the car, smoking a cigarette, while I call my Mom from the payphone next to the bowling alley, telling her I’m going to a friend’s house after school.

We pull into Eric’s garage and he runs around to the other side of the car before opening my door for me.

I take his hand as I step out and look at him, trying to act casual, but knowing my face is betraying my emotions.

He grins at me, amusedly, seemingly enjoying watching me lose my cool just a little.

“I’m right here, you’ll be fine.”

“Hey, Mom, I’m home!” he announces, as we head into the house.

We’re barely in the door before an adorable Yorkshire Terrier is bounding towards us, stopping at Eric’s feet, tail wagging like crazy.

”Hey, Sparky!” Eric is bent over, petting him, immediately, a huge smile on his face as he greets his four-legged friend.

”How’re you doing, boy? Did you miss me?”

A pretty, petite woman with dark hair peers her head out from the door leading into the next room.

“Is this her?” she asks, enthusiastically, walking toward us, a warm smile on her face.

I glance down at Eric, still playing on the floor with Sparky, before turning my attention back to her.

“Hi, you must be Lucy, I’m Eric’s Mom, Kathy. It’s nice to meet you!”

“You too,” I smile back, somewhat awkwardly. “You have a lovely home, Mrs. Harris.”

As he stands back up, I feel Eric’s eyes burning a hole in the side of my face, knowing full well he’s enjoying watching me sweat.

”Why, thank you, Dear! How sweet of you to say so.”

“We’re gonna go down to my room to watch a movie,” he tells her, rather abruptly.

“Okay, well, you kids have fun, then. Will you be staying for dinner, Lucy?”

“Um...”

“She’d love to,” Eric answers for me.

“Great!” Kathy smiles as she looks back and fourth at the two of us.

“We’re having meatloaf. I’ll call you two when it’s ready.”

As soon as her back is turned, Eric takes my hand and immediately leads me down the stairs, toward his bedroom in the basement.

“No grand tour?”

“Maybe later,” he says. “Right now I just want to get you on your own for a little while.”

“Why is that?” I ask, feigning innocence.

He looks back at me over his shoulder as we descend the stairs, his smile beyond devious.

Then we’re on his bed, kissing yet again, his hands seemingly everywhere at once.

It occurs to me suddenly that there’s nowhere else on Earth I’d rather be right now, just as his mouth finds that spot on my neck again that makes me weak.

“Jesus, Lucy, you really are something else, do you know that?” he murmurs against my skin, sending shockwaves through my system.

“You’re fucking incredible.”

“You know, Eric, it’s hard to take anything you say seriously when you’re pitching a tent in your cargo pants...”

“Eric! Lucy! Dinner is ready!” Kathy’s chipper voice declares from the foot of the stairs.

Eric sighs heavily and glances down toward said tent in his pants.

“I’m not sure an erection at the dinner table would be entirely appropriate.”

“No,” I laugh. “Probably not.”

“Could you head upstairs and buy me a couple of minutes while I try and get rid of this?”

Now I’m the one grinning amusedly at him.

“Alright, Harris, but you owe me.”

I stand from the bed and make my way toward the bottom of the stairs, before turning back to him.

I lift my shirt, briefly flashing a now open-mouthed Eric, still sat there on the bed.

“Just in case you needed a little inspiration,” I smile at him before heading back up the stairs.

“Wait, come back!” he calls after me. “I could use a little more!”

I’m introduced to Eric’s Dad and brother, Kevin, who I learn is just home from college for the week, as soon as I step foot in the dining room.

Thankfully, the two are just as friendly, welcoming and gracious as his Mom is, and I can’t help noticing the strong resemblance between Eric and his older brother.

“Well, I’m glad Eric has finally met a nice girl,” his Dad says, beginning to scoop a heaping pile of mashed potatoes onto his dinner plate.

“Things have been a little hard for him lately...”

I fight the sudden urge to laugh at that particular phrasing before Eric himself walks into the room, looking slightly more relaxed.

After dinner, and some more perfunctory small talk with his family, the two of us head back down to his room.

I notice a copy of ‘The Anarchist’s Cookbook’ on the locker by the bed and begin to flick through it while Eric rummages around the room for the VHS tape he’s looking for.

I’m laying on his bed, thumbing through it when I notice the video camera on top of his dresser.

“Nice camera. Are you into making home movies?”

He briefly halts his search to eye me up and down as I lay stretched out across the length of his mattress.

The mischievous grin returns in full force. 

“You know, Lucy, we could always make a little home movie of our own, if you wanted to...”

“Nice try, Harris.”

Eric insists we watch a movie called ‘Lost Highway’ as soon as I inform him I haven’t seen it.

It’s one of Eric’s favorites and I can quickly see why as he finally finds the tape in question and shoves it unceremoniously into the VCR before settling next to me on the bed.

It’s a strange, but entertaining film that leaves you guessing the entire time, with a killer soundtrack and the occasional bit of partial nudity, I can see why it holds such an appeal for him.

About halfway through the film, I notice he’s no longer looking at the screen, and find him staring at me.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head and smiles.

“I’m just really glad you’re here is all.”

After the movie ends the two of us spend a good half hour passionately discussing its finer points before we realize how late it’s gotten.

My parents will be expecting me home soon, I inform him. He offers me a ride and I graciously accept.

But we’re only on the second step before that idea goes quickly out the window and we’re kissing again.

“Can’t you just stay here tonight?” he sighs.

“Sure, let me just go up and ask your Mom first, okay?”

He rolls his eyes.

“Point taken.”

”Come on then, Lucy, let’s take that fine ass of yours home,” he brings a hand down hard on my backside suddenly, spanking me.

I look at him, surprised, then we’re kissing again.

“Did you like that?” he smirks against my lips.

I nod my head, once again seemingly unable to form a coherent sentence.

He brings his hand down hard again in the same spot and unable to help myself, I moan into the next kiss.

That seems to do it for him.

He pushes me up against the wall and his tongue delves into my mouth as he pins me there, hands wandering freely up and down my body.

“I think you’ve been a bad girl, Lucy,” he whispers, his voice deep, low and enough to make me feel as though I could melt into a puddle right here on the stairs.

“You might need to be punished...”

“Oh yeah?” I smile, my hands now atop his shoulders as he stares into my eyes, a hungry look in his own, dark, seductive, almost predatory.

“Yeah,” he replies simply, pressing his body right up against mine.

His rebound rate is impressive, I think to myself as yet again, I feel him pressed against my thigh.

And I am beyond myself now, far too lost in the moment to consider doing anything but giving him exactly what he wants....

“Either of you kids want dessert?!” Eric’s Dad shouts from upstairs.

The two of us look at one another in shock for a moment before starting to laugh.

Eric omits a heavy sigh.

“Fucking parents, man...”

“No, thanks, Dad!” he shouts back up the stairs. “We’re good!”

It’s almost nine by the time Eric pulls up outside my house.

“Thanks for being so cool today at school. Part of me was worried you’d ignore me completely come Monday morning,” he admits, somewhat shyly.

“Of course I wouldn’t, Eric. Don’t be ridiculous. You’re great, really, and I like you a lot. I don’t give a shit what anyone else has to say about it.”

He smiles at me, widely, looking slightly relieved by the statement.

“Good, cause I like you a lot, too, Lucy.”

“If I’m being honest... I’ve really fucking fallen for you over the past two days.”

“So have I,” I admit. “You know, you’re all I’ve thought about since we met.”

“Same here.”

And then we’re kissing again.

It’s softer this time, sweeter, slightly less aggressive and animalistic, as it had been earlier.

“Lucy,” he whispers, his voice barely audible now as we sit side by side in the darkness of his car.

“Yes, Eric?”

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

I look at him, surprised for a moment that he even had to ask the question, before replying.

“Of course, I will, you dumbass.”

After our eighth or ninth kiss goodnight, I somehow finally manage to pry myself from his arms.

He watches me from the car until I reach my porch and only drives away after I’ve closed the door shut behind me.

I feel almost euphoric.

Almost like a scene from some dumb, cheesy rom-com, I find myself slumped against the front door, a huge smile on my face as my mind flashes back over the events of the evening.

His girl.

I’m rudely dragged back to reality when I hear my Dad’s furious voice from the next room, where he’s now stood, frowning by the window.

“Lucy, who the hell was that guy that just dropped you off?!”


	5. Fire And Brimstone, Baby

I sleep right through the persistent ringing of my alarm clock and am awoken instead by my Dad bursting into my bedroom.

“Lucy, get up! You're going to be late for school!”

Oh, perish the fucking thought...

We listen to Frank Sinatra, my Dad’s favorite, as he drives me there.

“So, you’re going to ask this Eric kid over for dinner tomorrow night, then,” he says, tapping his fingers up and down on the wheel in time to the music.

“Yes, Dad. I already told you I would.”

“Well, be sure that you do, Lucy. Your Mom and I really should meet him if you two are going to be spending more time together.”

He scoffs dismissively before adding;

“I certainly hope he’s a step up from that last idiot you were calling your boyfriend.”

I can’t help but smile at that.

“He is, Dad. He’s great, really.”

“Well he’d want to be if he’s looking for permission to date my little girl...” 

“He doesn’t need your permission, Dad,” I petulantly inform him with a roll of my eyes.

My Father turns to look at me as though I just shit a litter of kittens right there in the car. 

“Like Hell he doesn’t!”

“I know your Mother was fond of that Evans boy you were seeing, but I always thought he was an annoying little shit personally.”

“Dad!” I laugh, suddenly reminded why my Father is one of my favorite people on this Earth.

“Well, it’s true. I never thought he was good enough for you, Lucy. That boy is far more in love with himself than he’ll ever be with any woman, trust me.” 

“I think you’re going to like Eric, Dad.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” he says, making the final turn before pulling up outside the school.

“He does know your old man is a cop, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, Dad,” I tell him, resisting the urge to roll my eyes yet again as I unbuckle my seatbelt.

“He knows.”

Much to my disappointment, I don’t get a chance to see Eric before I rush into Art class, apologizing to my favorite teacher for rocking up almost twenty minutes late.

Soon, I’m lost in a world of my own, adding the finishing touches to the project I’m currently working on.

It’s a painting of two lovers, condemned to Hell, passionately embracing one another as the fire and brimstone burns all around, enveloping them as they kiss.

I’ve already decided I’m going to give it to Eric as a present when it’s done.

“Very good, Lucy. I really like what you’ve done here,” Mr. Hawkins beams at me before heading on to critique the next student’s work.

“You really seem to have blossomed artistically as of late.”

“He’s right, you know, Lucy. It’s really fucking good.”

I look up from the canvas to see Tiffany standing next to me, smiling down at my painting.

“Thanks,” I reply, pausing my paintbrush mid-air, somewhat surprised she’s even speaking to me at all after what went down the day before.

“You really are talented, girl.”

I stare at her silently, still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I might as well just cut to the chase,” she sighs.

”Lucy, I’m really sorry about yesterday, okay?”

“Laura and Katie can be total fucking bitches, I know that, but I don’t want to lose you as a friend just because I might not like who you’re dating.”

“That’s the thing though, Tiffany, we are dating, and I really fucking like him. If the two of us are still going to hang out, you need to get on board with that.”

“You’re right,” she nods. “Absolutely, and hey, if you really like him, I guess he can’t be so bad after all.”

I feel as though a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders, almost instantaneously.

I’d tried to convince myself I didn’t care that my friends had turned on me so quickly, but in truth, it had wounded me deeply.

Although up until recently Laura had always been my best friend, her, Katie and I have been nearly inseparable since we were eight years old.

We may have drifted apart a little as people during the last year or so, but I still cared about them.

I feel a wave of sudden, unexpected emotion well up inside me now, as she speaks.

They haven’t all abandoned me after all.

“Thanks for saying that, Tiffany. I’m really glad at least one of you doesn’t suddenly hate my guts overnight.”

After class, the two of us begin to walk to our next one together as Tiffany fills me in on the events of the party the other night after Eric and I had left.

“I’ve got to run to the bathroom real quick before Chemistry starts,” she says. “Come with me.”

The two of us head into the bathroom, continuing to talk about the party in question before I hear the bathroom door shut behind us.

I glance over my shoulder to see Laura and Katie standing in front of the now closed door, blocking my exit and smiling maliciously.

I look over at Tiffany, questioningly, as she’s now stood by the row of sinks on the opposite wall.

Her response is a smile of her own, combined with a small shrug of her shoulders.

Before I can even truly register what’s happening, the three of them are closing in on me, and it’s not long until I’m shoved up against the bathroom wall.

A loud groan escapes my lips as the back of my head collides painfully with the white tiles that line the wall behind me.

Then, Laura is hitting me.

She slaps me hard across the face once, then a second time, knocking me down on to the floor.

A surge of pain shoots across my cheek as I attempt to struggle to my feet.

She brings her foot flying forward, her shoe connecting suddenly with my ribs, almost knocking the breath out of me entirely as I crash back down onto the ground.

“Why the fuck are you guys doing this?!”

One of them, I’m not sure which, grabs a handful of my hair from behind and yanks my head back, making me cry out in pain.

“Stop it! Please!”

My ribs are burning, my head is throbbing and the adrenaline is coursing through me at a powerful rate as my heart thumps in my chest, awaiting their next terrible move.

Vindictive laughter fills the room around us.

“Fucking bitch,” Laura mutters, staring down at me, but the other two are now exchanging looks of mild concern.

“She doesn’t look so good...” Katie says, in a quiet voice.

“The dumb bitch is going to look even worse when I’m done with her,” Laura informs her, bringing a foot down hard as she stomps on my lower calf.

“Such a shame your reject of a boyfriend isn’t here to protect you, isn’t it?”

“I guess you should have thought twice before opening that big fucking mouth of yours and saying all that shit to me in the hall yesterday, huh?”

The pain is all-consuming now, almost blinding, nearly enough to bring tears to my eyes as my former best friend continues her vicious, unwarranted assault.

Another kick, this time to the stomach, the effect is nothing short of agonizing.

“Jesus, Laura, stop!” Tiffany tells her, voice heavy with sudden alarm. “Look at her fucking face!”

I glance up at Laura, who seems to slowly be coming back to reality as she assess the damage she’s done.

“Oh, fuck,” she mutters, before hurriedly disappearing into one of the bathroom stalls.

She comes back out, clutching a roll of toilet paper in her hand.

“You look so fucking pathetic right now, do you know that?” she says, throwing the roll of paper down on to the ground next to me. “I can’t fucking believe Scott actually went out with you.”

“Here, clean yourself up...”

“And consider yourself lucky I didn’t shove your face down one of those toilets and swirly the fuck out of you like I wanted to.”

Then, the three of them leave me there, alone and in near excruciating pain on the floor.

They turn their backs on me, yet again, this time literally, before exiting the bathroom.

I sit there quietly for a couple of seconds, in total disbelief, completely dazed, feeling as though I just got hit by a bus, both physically and emotionally.

Bringing a hand up to my face, it comes away bloody, it’s only then that I realize my nose is gushing like a faucet.

It takes a minute, but I finally manage to stem the bleeding.

I splash some cold water on my face to try and bring me back to my senses.

After assessing the aftermath of my now throbbing face in the mirror, I decide it’d probably be best to skip the next class or two.

There’s a huge, purple bruise already beginning to occupy my ribs, but my face doesn’t look too bad, besides its now snow-white complexion, contrasted against the redness of my left cheek where Laura had struck me.

Some time later, I’m sat in the back of the library, my head buried in a battered copy of ‘Salem’s Lot’ when Dylan finds me.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in...”

As I look up at him from my book and meet his eye, the smiling face morphs into a frown of concern.

“Holy shit, what the hell happened to you?”

I already have a smart remark on the tip of my tongue, ready to go, but as soon as I go to speak, it’s only a small, defeated noise that decides to leave mouth.

“Dylan... I... they...”

“What the fuck happened, Lucy?” he asks, sympathetically, crouching down beside my chair to get a better look at me.

“Did somebody do this to you?”

I can only manage a little, sad nod in response before his expression turns to one of pity.

I feel so stupid, so weak, and Laura’s cruel words seem to almost have a ring of truth to them now.

I am fucking pathetic.

The library is almost empty, only a handful of other students are inside, somewhere up near the desks by the front entrance. 

I stand from the chair I’m in and am about to try again to form a response when, unable to help myself, I begin to sob, uncontrollably.

Dylan is immediately on his feet next to me, and my face somehow ends up buried in his chest as his long, skinny arms coil around me.

“Hey, it’s okay, Lucy. You’re alright,” his voice is comforting as he attempts to console me, beginning to stroke my hair as he holds me against him.

I can hear his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

“I’m right here.”

“Jesus Christ, man,” he sighs. “Eric is gonna take somebody’s fucking head for this shit.”

I pull away from him, alarmed.

“No, Dylan! Please don’t tell him!”

He looks at me as though I’ve begun speaking to him in pig-Latin.

“Why the fuck not, Lucy?” he demands.

“I know damn well who did this to you, and those nasty, stuck-up fucking bitches deserve whatever the Hell is coming to them!”

“If Eric goes after them, Scott and his buddies will kill him, Dylan,” my voice comes out far more shaken than I expect it to as I look around the room.

Almost as though I expect the three of them to reappear out of nowhere.

“Just please don’t say anything, alright? I’ll come up with some sort of cover story.”

”There’s no point in the two of us getting our asses handed to us...”

I can see the barely concealed anger in his eyes, clear as day, as he stares  
at me, but he slowly nods his head.

“Fine,” he reluctantly agrees. “I won’t say anything, but you should tell him yourself.”

The two of us make our way down to the commons where Eric is already waiting for us, by himself at a table in the corner of the room while he scribbles in a notebook in front of him.

He glances upward, spotting us approaching his table and rises from his seat with a grin. 

“There’s my girl!” he beams.

“And hello to you too, Lucy,” he adds with a chuckle.

Dylan rolls his eyes.

“I was waiting for you outside your last class, but old sugar-tits never-,” Eric pauses as he reaches us, and a deep frown of concern dominates his features.

“Lucy, what the fuck happened?” he’s speaking very slowly now, through gritted teeth as his eyes repeatedly scan my face, assessing the damage done to it.

“I fell going down the stairs, that’s all. I’m fine, Eric, really. Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, that’s complete and utter bullshit!”

”Did those stupid cunts do this to you?! I swear to God, I’ll fucking-.”

“No, Eric, I told you, I just-.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me!” he snaps, alarming me slightly, both his facial expression and voice, suddenly enraged.

“I know they fucking did this to you!”

“Nobody touched me, Eric!” I hiss at him, eyes darting around the cafeteria, vehemently hoping that nobody is listening.

“I just fell, it was my own damn fault for being a clumsy bitch.”

He stares at me, his face a mask of pure fury before the expression begins to dissolve, but only ever so slightly.

“Nobody did this to you?” he asks, somewhat skeptically.

“No...”

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Lucy,” he brings a hand up lightly caressing my cheek, that’s already begun to swell.

“Jesus, are you okay?”

I flinch beneath his touch, that part of my face now particularly tender.

His face is now one of nothing but worry and concern as he quickly pulls me into a hug.

I’m slightly embarrassed, but can’t deny the immediate wave of comfort that washes over me as soon as his arms wrap around my body.

I bury my face in his chest as he plants a kiss on top of my head.

Suddenly, I feel a little better.

Suddenly, I feel safe again.

“My poor baby,” he murmurs quietly, running a soothing hand up and down the length of my back.

“You need to be more fucking careful, Lucy.”

The rest of the school day passes by in a blur and before I know it, it’s time to go home.

I would have left right after the incident in the bathroom, but the idea of facing my parents in such a frazzled state was more than I could handle.

Eric offers to drive me home, to save me having to take the bus, and I happily accept the offer.

The same KMFDM CD he had in the stereo the night we met plays while he drives, the volume turned down lower than usual as we converse along the way.

“My Dad wants you to come over for dinner tomorrow night.”

“Oh, yeah?” he looks over at me and smiles.

“Finally told the folks about me, then, I take it.”

I explain to him the situation with my Dad from the previous night.

“I better not be walking into a fucking ambush tomorrow, Lucy,” he jokes.

“I’ll be sure he keeps his guns in the safe, don’t worry,” I smile, flinching again at the slight pain that darts across my face.

“I’ve already kind of met your Mom at least, even if she didn’t know I was there...”

“Plus Mr. Bigglesworth loved me,” he adds, with a smirk. “It’s only his approval that really matters to me anyway.”

Eric drops me off at my house and kisses me goodbye, promising to come over for dinner the following night to meet my parents.

I was hoping we could hang out for a while, but he has to go work a shift at Blackjack in a few hours and needs to go home to get ready.

After finishing my homework, I decide to ask my Mom if I can borrow the car, right after offering her the same, admittedly lame lie about falling down the stairs I’d fed to Eric earlier.

She agrees, likely out of pity over my various injuries, and I change into something a little more comfortable before making the short drive over to the Pizzeria to surprise my boyfriend.

It’s already grown dark outside by the time I walk in the front door of Blackjack Pizza.

A man with dark hair, who looks to be in his early thirties greets me at the counter.

“Hi, welcome to Blackjack, can I take your order?”

“Hi, I’m Lucy, Eric’s girlfriend. I just stopped by to say hello to him.”

“You’re the famous, Lucy goosey, eh?”

I feel myself starting to blush, just a little.

“I’m sorry, kiddo, but Harris isn’t here. It’s just Dylan and my handsome self working tonight, I’m afraid.”

I look at him, confused.

Then, Dylan appears from the back, looking slightly disheveled, wearing an apron, covered in flour that is almost comically short on his tall frame.

“Oh shit,” he says, as soon as he spots me standing there.

“Hey, Lucy.”

“Hi, Dylan. Where’s Eric? He told me he was working tonight.”

“Yeah, um... he was supposed to be.”

“What are you talking about, Dylan?” the man, I presume must be the manager asks.“Eric was never rostered to work to-.”

“No, I think he was!” Dylan insists.

“I told him I’d cover his shift for him... something came up...”

“... family stuff, I think.”

I can tell immediately from the way the manager is looking at Dylan in response, that he’s full of shit.

“Oh,” I reply. “Okay, I guess I’ll just call him when I get home, then.”

The manager, now looking a little embarrassed, disappears into the back with a quick;

“It was nice to meet you, Lucy!”

I lean over the counter, lowering my voice.

“Where is he really, Dylan?”

“I told you, Lucy. Family stuff. He’s probably at home.”

My heart sinks in my chest.

Is he with another girl?

Is that why he lied to me?

I can tell I’m not going to get the truth out of Dylan, regardless of what I say.

He’s not about to sell his friend out.

“Alright, fine,” I sigh. “I’m going to head home, then.”

“Thanks again for earlier today. I appreciate you being so sweet.”

I’ve already turned around and am halfway toward the door when Dylan says;

“Eric is a pretty smart guy, you know, Lucy. He didn’t buy that shit about you falling down the stairs for a second.”

I’m barely in the front door before I’m dialing Eric’s number.

His Mom answers, cheerily informing me that he’s at Dylan’s house.

Hanging up the phone, I suddenly feel slightly nauseated, and not just from the nasty beating I’d received earlier in the day.

Where the fuck is he?

And why did he feel the need to lie about it?

The next day at school I’m stood by my locker, yet again, when Eric finds me.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he smiles, offering me a big, comically sloppy kiss on the uninjured side of my face.

“You’re in a good mood,” I observe, grinning back at him as my arms drape over his shoulders.

“Why wouldn’t I be? The sun is shining, the birds are singing and I’m the lucky son of a bitch that’s got the most beautiful girl in Colorado for a girlfriend.”

For a moment, I’m just so happy to see him, that I completely forget about how he’d lied to me the previous day.

“Hey, did you hear that someone set that thunder-cunt Laura’s car on fire last night?”

I stare at him, horrified, as the realization of where he actually was last night begins to sink in.

“What’s wrong, Lucy? I would have thought that would cheer you up a little.”

“Eric, I-,” but the words freeze in my throat as I see the aforementioned thunder-cunt herself coming towards us from the other end of the hall, the principal and two teachers at her back.

“I don’t know what you’re even talking about!” she angrily protests. “I’ve never even smoked pot before, let alone have any in my damn locker!”

“Yes, well, that may be so, but when we’re given a tip, Miss Forester, we really do need to check up on it, just in case,” the Principal informs her.

“This is just absurd,” Laura insists, as she begins to enter the combination of her locker.

“First my beautiful new car is completely destroyed by some random bastard for no fucking reason... and now this...”

“It’s not fucking fair!”

“Language, Laura!” DeAngelis scolds her.

“The sooner you let us have a quick look inside your locker, the sooner all of this will be over with.”

“You know you’re not going to find anything in there,” she tells him, dramatically ripping open her locker door to reveal the contents inside.

“Go right ahead, look!”

The Principal begins his search, as Eric and I look on from the other side of the hall.

He pulls out a couple of books and drops them to the floor, before sighing heavily and shaking his head, producing a rather sizable bag of weed from the back of her locker.

“And how do you explain this, Miss Forester?” he asks, holding the bag up in front of her.

“I don’t... I... that’s not mine! I have no fucking idea how that got in there!”

If the Principal’s face is any indication, he’s clearly not buying what she’s selling.

“I think we’re going to have to have a little talk with your parents, young lady. I hope you know that this will require some serious disciplinary action.”

“But I...” Laura’s jaw is almost touching the ground beneath her as she looks back and fourth between the principal and the large bag of marijuana in his hand.

“That’s not fucking mine!” she screams, slamming her fist down hard against the locker adjacent to her own.

Next to me, Eric begins to chuckle softly.


	6. “C’est La Vie,” Say The Old Folks, It Goes To Show You Never Can Tell

The smoker’s pit is sparsely occupied, when Eric and I show up, eager to fit in a quick cigarette or two before our next class begins. 

Only a handful of other students are there, standing around, puffing away and conversing, when we arrive. 

“I know it was you, Eric...”

“Lucy, I already fucking told you that I was at work last night,” he says, sounding slightly exasperated as he shrugs the over-sized trench-coat from his shoulders.

He peels it off entirely before placing it down on the soft grass beneath our feet for the two of us to sit on.

“I don’t believe you,” I tell him, settling down cross-legged on the coat.

He sits down next to me, frowning.

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“Yes!”

“Pot meet kettle,” he mutters, reaching into his pocket and producing a nearly empty packet of cigarettes.

“And just what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He sighs heavily, places two cigarettes between his lips, lights them and hands one to me.

I accept it, gratefully, taking a deep drag.

“You lied to me yesterday about what happened to your face. That’s what the fuck that means.”

I should have known he was too smart to believe the story about falling down the stairs.

Scott would have bought that crap in a heartbeat, but Eric in comparison, is practically Albert fucking Einstein himself.

“Alright, I’m sorry I lied to you. I just didn’t want you to get hurt going after them.”

He scoffs loudly, looking slightly offended.

“You think I can’t handle thunder-cunt and her brainless minions?”

”Come on, Lucy...”

“It was more Scott and his brainless minions I was worried about.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Let those assholes do their fucking worst. I don’t have a single, solitary shit left to give.”

“It’s bad enough that they think they can fuck with me and get away with it, they’re not about to go pulling that shit where you’re concerned.”

”Not on my fucking watch.”

“Do you really think planting drugs in her locker was an appropriate response?”

He looks at me, his expression one of pure disbelief.

“That bitch got off light for the shit she pulled yesterday!”

“What about setting her car on fire? Is that getting off light?”

The sides of his lips twitch slightly, and he seems to be fighting the urge to smile, before taking another drag.

“That wasn’t me,” he insists.

“You’re so full of shit...”

“So are you,” he says.

“I guess that means we’re a perfect match, doesn’t it?”

Now I’m the one rolling my eyes.

The two of us smoke in silence for a couple of moments.

“The thing with the fire alarm the other day, planting drugs in Laura’s locker, and now the whole arson situation...”

“I’m starting to think you might be a little fucking crazy, Eric.”

“Crazy for you, maybe,” he grins.

I can’t help but laugh, despite myself, as he drapes an arm over my shoulder, shuffling closer.

“I told you it wasn’t me, but I’m glad someone fucking did it. She’s lucky it was just her car that was set on fire.”

“I stopped by Blackjack looking for you last night, you know.”

“Oh, did you? I must have been on break when you showed up,” the lie rolls off his tongue so effortlessly, it’s almost stunning.

“I know you weren’t at work last night. Please don’t insult my intelligence like that.”

“Alright, fine, I lied, okay?” he throws his hands up in defeat.

“So sue me. Big fucking deal.”

“I don’t want the the two of us lying to each other again, Eric.”

“If we don’t have any trust between us, what’s the fucking point of even being together?”

“Let’s just say hypothetically that it was me,” his voice is quiet now, a little uncertain.

“I would have only done it because I felt like I had to do something.”

“I’m your boyfriend. It’s my job to protect you and I let you down.”

“Of course you didn’t let me down, you idiot. It wasn’t your fault those bitches attacked me.”

“Just please promise me you won’t pull anymore crazy stunts like that without at least consulting me first.”

He nods his head, but looks slightly concerned.

“So, you don’t wanna break up with me, then?”

“You might be a bit of a fucking psycho, Eric, but you’re my psycho now.”

He smiles at that.

”Even if I don’t entirely agree with what you did, I get that your heart was in the right place... kind of.”

“And it was pretty fucking funny seeing thunder-cunt having a nervous breakdown...”

”I think I might be able to write that one off as karmic retribution.”

“I promise that I won’t ever lie to you again, Lucy,” he swears, taking my hand in his own, squeezing it gently.

”I just kinda lost it a little when I realized what had happened.”

Our lips collide as we sit atop his trench-coat on the grass, cigarettes in hand, as he kisses me softly.

“The thought of anyone hurting you just drives me fucking crazy beyond belief...”

I’m upstairs getting changed when I hear the knock at the front door.

He’s early.

I quickly pull on my jeans and head down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Mom beats me to it, and is standing face to face with a smiling Eric when I reach the landing.

I can’t help grinning myself as soon as I lay eyes on the choir-boy who has now replaced my boyfriend.

His hair is neatly combed and he’s wearing a smart, button-down shirt, tan pants and a pair of shiny new loafers.

My heart swells a little when I notice the bouquet of flowers in his right hand.

“Hi, Mrs. Peters, I’m Eric. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

He looks a little nervous, I observe, as we sit opposite one another at the dinner table.

Unable to help myself, I slip my foot out of my shoe and start to run it up along the side of his leg.

His eyes widen at the sudden contact.

Smiling, I lift my foot a little higher, grazing his thigh.

He clears his throat and shuffles a little in his chair.

My Mom, facing the stove, glances back over her shoulder at us.

“You okay, Eric?”

“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Peters. I just have something in my throat.”

She turns back around, continuing to stir the sauce she’s making to accompany our dinner.

He grabs my foot, now situated in his lap and squeezes it, mouthing the word “stop” at me.

I smile at him and slowly lick my lips in response.

“Lucy, please,” he whispers from across the table.

“I wanna make a good impression.”

Grinning, I start to slide the front of my shirt down, just a little, refusing to break eye-contact with him as I do so.

“Woman, I swear to fucking God...”

“What was that, Dear?” Mom asks, glancing back at him again.

“Nothing, Mrs. Peters...”

“I’m just real excited about that lasagne.”

I suddenly burst out laughing, just as my Dad walks into the kitchen, still in uniform.

I notice Eric swallow a lump in his throat as my Mom looks at me, confused.

The meal now completed, my Mom and Dad sit down to join us at the table.

“So, what are you planning on doing with yourself after graduation, Eric?”

“I was hoping to join the marines.”

My Dad nods his head, casually, but I can tell he likes what he just heard.

“My Dad was in the military up until he retired,” Eric explains, pushing the pile of peas around the plate with his fork.

“My brother wants to join the marines, too, when he finishes college.”

“There’s a lot of military men on both sides of my family. My Grandpa actually fought in World War Two.”

“Oh, really? Well, that’s very admirable that you want to follow in their footsteps, son.”

Son.

He never called Scott that.

Not once.

“Thank you, Mr. Peters. I-.” 

“Do you play any sports, Eric?” Mom interrupts, pouring herself another glass of wine.

“I play soccer occasionally.”

“You don’t look particularly athletic,” she comments, bringing the glass back up to her lips.

I shoot my Mom a quick look, but she ignores me as she takes another drink.

“No,” he admits. “I’m not really.”

“And how exactly did you and Lucy get together again?”

I can tell she’s already pretty tipsy by this point, having already started to drink much earlier in the day.

“We met at school,” he says, clever enough to know not to mention the party at all. 

“Oh, I see,” she takes a long drink, finishing off half the glass in one mouthful, before topping herself up once again.

She accidentally spills some wine on the tablecloth, but doesn’t seem to notice.

I’m suddenly very uncomfortable.

I was afraid this might happen.

“And what exactly are your intentions with my daughter?”

Please don’t fucking do this, Mom...

Eric looks at her, surprised.

“Well, I intend to keep dating her, and to try my best to make her happy.”

My Dad smiles at him briefly, before looking at my Mom, who is now making quick work of the bottle of wine on the table.

“She seemed pretty happy with Scott, if you ask me,” she mutters, once again taking a deep gulp from the glass in her hand.

Oh, Dear God... 

Why? 

Eric frowns slightly at that, but doesn’t say anything.

My Dad suddenly looks very irritated.

“Beverly, I think you might have had enough to drink...”

“Oh, you think so, do you?” she laughs.

“What are you going to do? Arrest me?”

“Well, I think you seem like a fine young man, Eric,” Dad says, ignoring that last comment as he frowns across the table at my embarrassment of a Mother.

“And I’m perfectly happy for you kids to continue seeing one another, if it makes Lucy happy.”

“If only you cared about making me happy, David,” Mom sighs, picking up the bottle again.

“Either of you kids want a drink?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I mutter to myself, burying my face in my hands.

“Lucy!” Mom snaps. “Watch your fucking mouth!”

Eric and I are up in my bedroom again, the door kept open, as per my Dad’s request.

“I’m so sorry about her, Eric. She gets kind of bitchy sometimes when she drinks.”

“Don’t worry about it, Lucy. I don’t care. At least your Dad seems to like me.”

“Even if my lush of a Mom doesn’t?”

A small smile graces his lips.

“I’ll assume it’s because she’s drunk and won’t take it personally.”

”I mean, she’d have to be wasted not to appreciate such a wonderful, charming, charismatic young man as myself.”

“I know you’re kidding, but it’s actually true. You are so fucking wonderful, do you know that?” 

“Yeah, I know,” he smiles. “I am a great catch, there’s no denying that. You’re one lucky lady, Lucy.”

“Hey, I don’t suppose there’s any chance your Dad would let me take a look at his guns, is there?”

As it turns out, there is.

“And this one right here is my pride and joy,” Dad beams, taking his handgun from the now unlocked safe in my parent’s bedroom.

“Here, have a look at this baby.”

He hands the now unloaded gun to Eric who lets out a low whistle as he holds it up to the light, examining it.

“Wow, she’s a beaut.”

“Are you interested in weaponry, then, Eric?”

“Oh yeah,” Eric nods his head vigorously.

“Big time.”

Much to my surprise, my Dad is now smiling at him, like he’s the son he never had, and it instantly warms my heart to see my two favorite people bonding so well.

I was half expecting my parents, Dad especially, to scare him off entirely, but fortunately, Eric doesn’t seem phased at all. 

And my Father seems to have taken an instant, if not somewhat unexpected shine to him, too.

“I’ll have to take you shooting with Lucy and I sometime. I’m proud to say my little girl is very efficient with one of these suckers.”

“Oh, I know,” Eric grins.

My Dad looks at him, confused.

“How would you-.”

“She told me you’ve been taking her shooting with you since she was a kid,” he says, once again stunning me with how quickly he’s able to cover his ass.

With Mom already in one of her wine-induced comas upstairs, Eric, Dad and I watch T.V. together for a while in the living room.

My Father nursing a beer, while the two of us sip cans of coke next to him on the couch.

Soon, unfortunately, it’s time for Eric to leave, but he’s been so amazing tonight that it’s more difficult than usual to watch him go.

I’m both extremely impressed and appreciative at how much effort he put into this evening.

His clean-cut appearance, his good manners, him being on his best behavior and putting on such a good show for them.

Especially how patient and respectful he was, toward my admittedly pain in the ass, Mom, who he even brought flowers for.

And, of course, how he ate most of his dinner, even though, as he later informed me, he doesn’t even like lasagne.

I walk him to his car, now parked at the end of the driveway.

“Thanks so much for tonight, Eric. You were awesome, and my Dad loves you, I can tell.”

He smiles widely, pulling me in for a quick kiss.

“It was my pleasure, Lucy. I really liked him, too.”

“I’m not the biggest fan of cops in general, but your Dad is a pretty cool guy, I gotta admit.”

His arms are wrapped around my waist, the two of us grinning at one another like a couple of idiots as we stand by the side of his car.

“Where did you think I got it from?”

He starts to laugh, shaking his head.

“Not from your Mom anyway, that’s for damn sure!”

Now it’s my turn to laugh.

“Goddamn,” he sighs.

”What?” 

“You look so fucking beautiful when you laugh, do you know that?”

Before I can even articulate a response, he turns us around suddenly, and presses me up against the side of his car as we begin to make out.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I’m worried that my Dad might be looking out the window at us, but as Eric’s eager hands run up along the length of my body and his lips meet my neck, I find it hard to care.

Hours later, in the middle of the night, I wake to the soothing sound of light rainfall outside.

I’m surprised I woke up at all, I’m usually a pretty heavy sleeper and rarely stir throughout the night.

Suddenly, I hear a noise on the roof, just outside my barely open bedroom window.

I shoot up in bed, alarmed, as I peer through the darkness toward the other side of the room.

An immediate wave of fear washes over me as I see a dark figure climbing in through the window.

“Oh My God....”

“Don’t worry,” he whispers. “It’s only me.”

“Jesus Christ, Eric. What the fuck are you doing?”

“You scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m sorry, Lucy. I couldn’t sleep.”

“So, you thought you’d climb in my bedroom window, you creepy bastard?”

He starts to chuckle softly as he makes his way over towards the bed.

“Exactly,” he says, the bed creaking slightly as he sits down next to me on the mattress.

”That’s one hundred percent what this creepy bastard thought he would do.”

He reaches over and brushes a strand of hair back behind my ear.

“I just missed you is all.”

”Is it okay if I stay here for a little while?”

“I suppose so, you fucking nutcase, you,” I pat the side of the bed next to me.

“Come on, lay your crazy ass down.”

He laughs quietly as he unzips his slightly damp jacket, discarding it on the floor before laying down next to me.

“Thanks, Lucy goosey.”

His arms find their way around my body, and we begin to cuddle as we lay together in the darkness of my bedroom.

“I’m glad you’re here, Eric, even if you did scare the absolute crap out of me again.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I thought it’d be romantic.”

He brushes my hair back from the nape of my neck and plants a small kiss there.

“Kinda like Romeo and Juliet, you know.”

I roll over to face him, his arms still coiled around my pajama clad form.

“I was thinking it was more of a Richard Ramirez kind of move myself, but sure, let’s call it romantic, why the hell not?”

He chuckles in response, giving me an unexpected Eskimo kiss as he brushes his nose against mine.

“Damn, I fucking love you...”

My mouth falls open.

“You what?”

“Nothing.”

“Did you just say you love me?”

“No,” he scoffs.

“Of course not. You fucking wish, lady.” 

“You did,” I grin.

“I heard you, you said it.”

“Shut up, Lucy. No, I fucking didn’t.”

”Yes, you did!” 

”Don’t be retarded...” 

“You really love me, you wanna kiss me, you wanna hug me,” I sing, teasingly.

“You wanna marry me, you wanna-.”

He stops me there, pressing his lips against mine, before his tongue slides into my mouth.

I kiss him back as his hands begin to roam my body yet again.

Then, his lips find my neck, beginning to plant a trail of soft, sweet kisses down the length of it.

And my heart feels as though it could implode inside my chest at any given moment.

I am suddenly, completely overwhelmed by the ferocity of an emotion that now seems all-encompassing.

“Maybe I do wanna marry you,” he whispers, briefly halting the lovely assault his lips were just committing on my neck.

“What would you say if I asked you to?”

”Well, seeing as how you just called me retarded, I’d most likely tell you to go fuck yourself.”

He starts to laugh again.

And I’m now just about positive that it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever had the pleasure of hearing. 

“Seriously, though, what would you say if I asked you to marry me?”

”If I asked you to be mine forever?”

“I’d probably say you were insane, Harris.”

“And you’d probably be right,” he smiles.

“But I’ve felt saner the past few days than I have in a very, very long time.”

“Well, that’s not saying much considering you both committed arson and planted drugs on someone within the past forty eight hours...”

“I do appreciate the sentiment, though.”

The room is dark, illuminated only by a small glimmer of moonlight shining through a gap in the thick curtains that adorn my bedroom window.

Just enough to barely expose his features as he lays next to me on the bed.

He looks so innocent right now, laying there, smiling softly at me.

So peaceful.

It’s hard to believe this is the same young man who committed arson in my honor the night before.

“I was thinking we could finally take that trip up to the mountains this weekend,” he says.

“If you’re up for it.”

“Only if you say it again.”

“Say what?” he asks, furrowing his brow.

“You know what, Eric. Please say it again.” 

He looks at me for a moment, before it dawns on him, then he’s smiling softly once more.

“I love you, honey bunny,” he says.

It’s not just his words that set my heart alight, but also the fact that he’s just quoted one of my favorite movies of all time.

I can’t help suddenly wondering just what I did so right in a previous life for the universe to have bestowed this upon me. 

To have blessed me with his very existence. 

Call it fate, call it simply dumb fucking luck, but whatever the cause, I’m beyond grateful.

And as quickly and unexpectedly as all of this has happened, I now know two things with an almost iron-clad certainty.

One, that he means the words he has just spoken, and two, that I have already begun to fall head over heels, hopelessly and irrevocably in love with him in return.

He kisses the palm of my hand as my fingers trail gently along the side of his face.

“I love you too, pumpkin.”


	7. Lucy In The Sky With Pipe-Bombs

“Guess who just got promoted to shift manager.” 

Eric is sat in the passenger seat, playing with an old zippo lighter as I drive. 

“Dylan?”

“Well, congratulations to him, he deserves it. From what I hear he’s the only one there who ever puts in a hard day’s work anyway.” 

“Hey, fuck you,” he laughs, continuing to play with the lighter in his hand. 

“You wish, Harris,” I tell him, my smile beginning to grow.

“Dylan does sweet fuck all at work and that place would fall apart without me.”

“Oh, I’m so sure,” I tease him. 

“Well, in that case, congratulations, Mr. Manager. I’m very proud of you.”

“You are?”

“Of course.”

“How proud?” he asks, the smile now threatening to turn into a smirk. 

“Not proud enough to do whatever the fuck it is you’re thinking, Eric.”

“Damn,” he mutters, playing with the dial of the stereo. 

‘ _White-trash kid down on your knees, time for cake and sodomy.”_

_ ‘I am the God of fuck, I am the God of fuck.’  _

“I like this one,” he comments, nodding his head along to the Marilyn Manson song currently blasting from the radio. 

“I told you this album is a classic.”

“Much better than that K.F.C. garbage you listen to, isn’t it?” 

“K.F.C? Are you fucking serious?” 

It takes all of my strength not to smile while Eric shakes his head next to me. 

“You know Goddamn well that they’re called KMFDM.” 

“And I’m sorry, Lucy, but no dude who wears lipstick and eyeliner rocks harder than KMFDM.”

“That’s some seriously blasphemous shit right there and I won’t hesitate to dump your ass for it!”

“Yeah, right! I don’t know what you’re smoking, Harris, but Manson fucking rules.”

“He’s the God of fuck, remember?” 

“No, I’m the God of fuck,” Eric insists. 

“Or at least I hope to be by the end of the evening...” 

“You think you’ll reach Sex God status the first time you do it?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asks incredulously. 

“When I’m so fucking Godlike already?” 

“And to think you thought my friends and I were full of ourselves when we first met.”

“Okay, I’ll be sure to keep that little comment in mind for later tonight, Eric.”

“You’d better rock my damn world after that statement.”

He cocks an eyebrow, biting down on his lower lip. 

“Let’s just say you won’t be able to walk straight for a couple of weeks once I’m done with you...”

“Why?” I grin, gripping the wheel with one hand, my cigarette in the other. 

“When we’re done fucking, are you going to cripple me like that chick from Misery, so I can’t get away from you?” 

Eric laughs, his body shaking in the chair next to me. 

“Now there’s an idea!”

“And here was my dumb ass thinking I needed to blow all my cash on some big fancy wedding to lock this shit down...” 

“...I could just snap and go all Kathy Bates on your ass for free.” 

As I continue to drive, Eric starts regularly offering unsolicited tips and commentary on my driving skills. 

“Okay, just hold on, Lucy. Let that other car go first.”

I shoot him a look. 

“Alright, you can go now.”

“I know how to drive, Eric.” 

“Could have fooled me,” he mutters. 

“Shut up, asshole!” 

“Hey, it’s not my fault women can’t drive!” 

“Motherfucker, do you want to get out and walk? Because that’s always an option.” 

“At least I might get there sometime this century if I do, Grandma.”

“Keep fucking talking, and I’m going to be the God of sticking my foot up your ass!” 

We park near the base of the mountain and go to grab our bags from the trunk. 

Eric pops it open and pulls his bag out. I pick mine up and hand it to him.

“Here, you take mine. You know what us delicate women folk are like, we can’t drive or carry anything heavy.” 

It takes us a while to ascend the mountain, and about halfway up I could already use a quick break. 

I look back at a slightly out of breath Eric, lugging along both bags. 

“Need a hand with those?” I offer, pausing for a second to take a drink from the bottle of water I’m carrying. 

“Fuck no,” he pants. “Just hold that bottle up to my mouth for a second, would you?” 

I bring the bottle to his lips and he drinks from it, his forehead lightly beaded with perspiration.

As he slurps at the stream of water, I can’t help laughing at him, he laughs too, spitting the water all over himself, soaking his shirt in the process. 

He dramatically slumps to the ground and lays against one of the bags. 

“Lucy,” he groans, his hand reaching out and gripping my ankle. 

“I give up, damn you!” 

“I think here’s good anyway, right?”

I fall down, laughing next to him, his fingers still wrapped around my ankle. 

“Yeah, here’s good.” 

“Don’t you dare laugh at me, Lucy.”

That has me cracking up even harder. 

“I’m just a Goddamn pack-mule to you, aren’t I, woman?”

Knowing he’s brought a change of clothes with him, I unzip his bag and fish around inside until I find a clean shirt.

The one I find is black with a red oval directly across the center, that reads ‘KMFDM.’ 

“Here,” I toss the shirt over to him, where he catches it easily.

“Put on your K.F.C. shirt.” 

He rolls his eyes, but doesn’t bother to correct me a second time. 

“There’s no point in you walking around in a wet one and dying of hypothermia.”

“You’ll be no match for the cannibals in that state.” 

“Nah, I think I’m good.” 

He stares down at the ball of now crumpled fabric in his right hand. 

“I think I’ll wait and worry about the cannibals if and when they arrive, thanks.”

“Eric, your shirt is soaked, just change it.” 

“Alright, fine, Mom!” he throws his hands up in defeat. “I’ll go change!” 

He starts to walk off in the opposite direction, toward some trees. 

“Hey, where are you going?”

“To go change.” 

“Why can’t you just change your shirt in front of me?”

He looks at me blankly in response. 

“Too modest?”

“That’s it exactly,” he nods.

”Just give me a second, okay?”

“I’ll be right back.” 

That was a little strange, I observe, but it’s soon forgotten about by the time he rejoins me, now in a clean, dry t-shirt. 

Eric tries and fails miserably to light a fire by rubbing two sticks together.

I tease him relentlessly. 

He then attempts it several more times. 

“You’re not going to be able to do it,” I tell him, pulling a large blanket from the bag and spreading it out before us on the ground. 

“That’s what they told Neil Armstrong about waking on the fucking moon,” he mutters.

“No they didn’t!” I laugh. “The entire nation was behind him!”

“I can’t say the same for the world’s worst boy-scout over here!” 

I have my back to him but am almost certain I hear the click of his zippo.

“I did it!” he announces. “Burn, baby, burn!” 

“You did not do it, you fucking liar!” I turn around, still laughing, throwing the pillow I’m holding at him.

Momentarily forgetting that Eric himself is now holding two flaming sticks in his hands. 

The edge of the pillow catches fire as it lands on the ground by his feet and begins to spread up along the side of it. 

“Oh, shit!” 

Eric starts to stomp up and down on the pillow until the flames die out beneath his boot. 

“That’s your pillow,” I inform him, pulling the still intact one from the bag and claiming it for myself. 

“Fuck that! Give me my pillow!” he demands. 

“I’m sure as shit not sleeping with that burnt one I stomped into the dirt!” 

“That was your damn fault!”

Eric gets a small fire going and pitches the tent while I do the rest of the setting up.

We make quick work of the sandwiches and chips we brought with us, then start to make s’mores as the sky darkens around us. 

“And that’s when an energy broadcast came on over the radio...” 

Eric is sat opposite me, holding a marshmallow and chocolate covered stick up to the fire, ludicrously attempting to look menacing. 

“... saying that a lunatic had escaped from the local asylum, who had a-.”

“Hook for a hand,” I interrupt, popping a marshmallow into my mouth. 

“I know. I’ve heard that one before.” 

“Damn it! Okay, I’ve got another one...”

A loud whistle in the distance stops us in our tracks, followed by a bang.

I could almost swear it was a gun.

“What was that?” 

“About damn time is what that was!” Eric says, his now s’more covered lips curling up into a grin. 

“Look up!” 

Glancing skyward, I’m met with a bright flurry of colors as another loud bang rings out somewhere far away.

Then another vibrant pop of color blooms to life, radiant and beautiful against the black canvas of the dark night sky. 

Fireworks. 

Eric is still looking at me, smiling, having yet to have glanced up in appreciation himself. 

“Look, Eric! Fireworks!”

“Yeah, I know!” he shouts, the bangs and colors becoming louder, more frequent, as the sky is painted with splashes of rainbow above our heads. 

“I paid Vodka a couple of bucks to set them off for us!”

Soon after the spontaneous fireworks display ends, we’re joined by the man himself.

“Jesus Christ! Run! It’s Bigfoot!” 

“Jesus Christ!” Dylan repeats. 

“It’s Eric and his kidnap victim!”

Eric erupts into laughter next to me, almost dropping his marshmallow covered stick into the fire as his friend appears from the clearing, disheveled and covered in leaves. 

“Eric, please tell your woman to shut the fuck up,” Dylan says, wiping the foliage from his jacket. 

“You heard, him, woman,” Eric turns to look at me.

“Shut the fuck up!”

The three of us laugh, as Eric receives a hard smack with the still intact pillow.

Dylan eloquently informs us that he has to “go take a quick leak.” 

And disappears off behind a nearby tree to relieve himself. 

Eric and I are now sat, cuddled up by the fire, with a blanket wrapped around us. 

Here beneath the stars together, just like we’d talked about that first night.

Finally, we’re here. 

Then his friend shows up out of nowhere, doing something sweet for us, sure, but also completely destroying any kind of vibe we had going. 

“I thought it was just going to be the two of us tonight.”

“I know,” he sighs. “That’s what I wanted, too, believe me.”

“This doesn’t mean we still can’t have a good time though.”

He bites down on his lower lip, his eyes alight with mischief. 

“Does it?” 

“With Dylan here? Get real, Eric.” 

“What? Oh, come on! We can ditch him for a half hour or so!” 

His expression looks so crestfallen, I can’t help but laugh. 

“Why did you invite him anyway?” 

“Don’t tell him I told you this, but he’s been feeling a little down lately.”

“I didn’t wanna leave him on his own.” 

“I know what it’s like to feel like you’re all alone in the world and I hate the idea of my friend feeling like that.” 

I start to feel a little guilty for even asking. 

“Oh, okay, I understand.” I reach over and find his hand beneath the blanket. 

“You don’t feel alone anymore though, right?” 

“Lucy,” he squeezes my hand, smiling gently at me. 

“Of course, not.” 

“Not since you started following me around everywhere like a damn love-sick puppy, at least.” 

Dylan rejoins us by the fire, complaining about how cold it’s already started to get as he shrugs the strap of a large, black duffel bag from his shoulder. 

It hits the ground below with a soft thud.

“What did you guys think, huh?” he asks, a small smile donning his face as he bends over and begins to rummage through the bag. 

“Pretty fucking cool, or what?” 

“Good job, man,” Eric says, resting his head on my shoulder. “She loved it.” 

“Hey, if you end up getting some tonight for that shit, you’ll know who to thank,” Dylan replies with a wry smile, looking up from the bag at the two of us. 

Eric grins back at him, and they both suddenly seem far too pleased with themselves. 

“Dylan, the only way he’s going to be getting any tonight is if you give it to him.”

“So of course he’ll be thanking you.”

“Ah, Lucy!” Eric cries, bringing a hand to his chest as Dylan roars with sudden laughter next to us. 

“Break my fucking heart and shatter all my dreams, why don’t you!” 

Dylan produces a nearly full bottle of Jack Daniels from his bag, takes a deep swig and passes it to Eric.

“Thanks, man,” he takes a hearty gulp of his own and winces slightly at the taste before handing it to me. 

I take a small drink, the amber liquid burning like a motherfucker as it trickles down my throat. 

“Chug! Chug! Chug!” they chant. 

“No way!” I shake my head, handing the bottle back to Dylan, now sat opposite us by the fire. 

“That shit is nasty!” 

“Little too strong for you, princess?” he smirks, pulling a bag of skittles from his pocket. 

I roll my eyes at him as he proceeds to tear open the bag with his teeth.

“Hey, did you bring Zeus with you?” Eric asks. 

Dylan lifts his head back, tipping half the contents of the bag between his lips, before taking another drink, swirling the whiskey and candy in his mouth. 

He swallows hard, nodding his head. 

“Of course I did.” 

Fumbling in his bag again, he soon pulls out something several inches long by two or three inches wide, covered in material that looks to be that of an old sock. 

“Do you think I’m an idiot or something?”

“Nah, man,” Eric assures him. “I was just worried you might forget, you know, having to bring all that other shit with you.”

“I know we usually leave that kinda stuff at my place, but my parents have been getting a little...”

He glances over at me, then back at his friend. 

“You know...” 

Dylan nods his head. 

“Yeah, I know, no worries, Reb.” 

“By the way, any trouble with the folks?”

Dylan shakes his head, cradling the unknown object in his hand, turning it around in his fingers, as though examining it. 

“Nope. Thank God.” 

I look back and fourth between the two of them, confused, waiting for either of the two to elaborate or make sense of the situation. 

“Good,” Eric beams. 

“Then without further fucking ado, let’s light that sucker up!” 

A couple of minutes later, the three of us are situated around a small creek bed. 

It would be an understatement to say that I am slightly apprehensive as Dylan slides what appears to be a large pipe-bomb from its outer casing. 

A small gasp leaves my lips and Eric turns to look at me. 

“You ready to see something cool?” 

“I’m not sure about this,” I admit. 

“Did you guys make that?” 

“Why, yes,” he proudly informs me. “Yes, we did.”

“You’re looking at the fine craftsmanship of Reb and Vodka themselves.” 

A fucking bomb. 

Are they serious? 

I’m at a complete loss for words as I skeptically eye the two boys, now giddier than a couple of drunk school girls. 

“Care to do the honors, Reb?” Dylan grins, having finally nestled the pipe-bomb down, just where he wants it, wedged between two large roots in the ground.

“I’d love to, Vodka. How considerate of you.” 

A gleeful Eric lowers himself down toward the ground, produces, then lights the zippo, before holding the flame against the fuse. 

“Alright, get the fuck back!” he warns us, rising to his feet, turning quickly around. 

He wraps an arm around me as he goes, pulling me backwards with him. 

“Haul ass, Lucy!” 

The three of us run forward, with me following suit as the two boys dive behind a large, red slab of rock, ten or so meters away. 

The pipe-bomb explodes with an almost deafeningly loud bang. 

It rings though the night, clear as a bell, and huge clumps of grass, dirt and debris fly through the air all around. 

“Holy shit, dude!” Eric laughs, as the three of us begin to asses the damage.

“That was awesome!” 

“We really blew the fuck out of that creek bed, huh?” Dylan observes. 

“Zeus did us fucking proud!” 

“You bet your Goddamn ass he did!” 

Eric holds his hand up for a high five that Dylan enthusiastically meets mid-air. 

“You guys are total lunatics,” I comment, slowly shaking my head back and fourth.

I stare, bewildered, down into the large, smoking hole now embedded in the Earth, as the two of them continue to celebrate next to me. 

“How the hell did you even make that thing?” 

I’m met with nothing more than two smug, smiling faces as way of a response. 

The copy of ‘The Anarchist’s Cookbook’ I’d seen in Eric’s bedroom comes immediately to mind. 

“I know you were probably expecting something a little different when Eric told you he’d take you up here for a great bang,” Dylan says, his voice as innocent and unassuming as if he were discussing the weather. 

“But you gotta admit, that was pretty damn cool!” 

“Just don’t go telling Daddy on us,” he adds, wagging his finger at me. 

“Oh, fuck no,” Eric agrees. “Be sure that you don’t.”

“He’s a pretty chilled guy for a cop, but there’s no doubt in my mind that the man would have my head mounted over his fireplace like a damn deer if he heard we were doing this.”

He isn’t wrong there. 

Even though it was reasonably far away, the side of our tent is somehow left with a rather large, gaping hole in the roof of it. 

As it begins to rain, the three of us decide it might be a better idea to head over to Dylan’s house, with him graciously offering us the use of his pool house for the night. 

The descent of the mountain seems much quicker than the trail up, and before we know it, we’ve reached the bottom.

We load our stuff back into the trunk and get back into our cars. 

Dylan taking his BMW back to his place, with Eric and I following closely behind in the car my parents were kind enough to lend me for the evening. 

“Welcome to the chateau, Miss Peters,” Dylan says, gesturing with a wave of his hand for me to enter the pool house ahead of him. 

“You’ll find a bottle of champagne on ice in the fridge and plenty of freshly pressed towels and toiletries in your bathroom.”

“The sheets are, of course, 100% Egyptian Cotton and-.” 

“Out of the way, fucko,” Eric interrupts, pushing past his rambling friend as he heads inside with the bags. 

Dylan shakes his head and sighs. 

“Some people just have no class or refinement about them at all, do they, Lucy?”

“I might not have any class, Klebold, but I can sure as shit school your fucking ass any day of the week!” Eric announces from somewhere inside. 

A couple of hours, and a lot of drinks later, Dylan is pretty much out for the count. 

Having finished most of the bottle of whiskey himself, he now lays, passed out on a plastic garden recliner in the corner of the room. 

He looks as though he’s been dragged backwards through a bush, his clothes disheveled and hair a mess, still clutching the nearly empty bottle of Jack Daniels in his left hand. 

I pry the bottle from his fingers. 

“No, Mom, I told you, I don’t want a fucking hair cut...” he murmurs. 

“... I like it this length.” 

It’s impossible not to smile at him, especially while listening to Eric’s soft, drunken laughter behind me. 

I gently brush the hair, that Dylan likes the length of, back from his face before removing his shoes and covering him up with one of the blankets we brought with us. 

“Dylan is fine.”

“Stop fussing over your new best buddy and come over here,” Eric commands, slapping a hand down on the sleeping bag next to him on the floor. 

“It’s bedtime.” 

“Oh, is it?” I grin, walking back over towards my bag at the other side of the room. 

“Yes.”

I lift my shirt above my head and toss it carelessly to the floor before beginning to unbutton my jeans. 

“Oh, hell yeah, baby, now that’s what I’m talking about...”

“Shut up.”

I throw my shirt across the room, hitting him in the face with it. 

“Throw the panties next,” he smirks, rubbing his hands together like a cartoon villain. 

I do my best to laugh quietly, glancing over quickly at a still sleeping Dylan, before continuing to undress. 

Soon, stripped down to my underwear, I pull on an on oversized Nirvana shirt I like to sleep in, and make my way back over to Eric. 

After sliding into the sleeping bag next to him and pretending to fall asleep, it isn’t long until I hear him stir behind me.

Then there’s a hand on my side. 

“Lucy.” 

He shakes me slightly. 

“Are you still awake?” 

He gets no reply. 

It’s quiet, but just for a moment or two. 

“You wanna fuck?” 

I blow my cover and start to laugh.

His hands grip my sides through the sleeping bag as he pulls me backward against him.

“I knew you were awake,” he chuckles. 

Turning to face him, I’m met with a dreamy sort of smile that inexplicably makes my heart ache, just a little. 

“I didn’t think the first night we spent together would be on the floor of Dylan’s pool house,” he whispers. 

“But still, I’m glad we’re together, at least.” 

“So am I,” I whisper back.

“Lucy, can I ask you something?” 

“Of course, Eric. Anything.” 

He pauses for a second, looking pensive, as if trying to find the exact right words to say.

“Am I for sure not getting any tonight?” 

“You’re a dumbass...” 

He laughs again, leaning in toward me.

“So you keep saying, yet here you are...”

He kisses me then, his hands finding my face, holding it there as his lips connect with mine. 

The kissing progresses, persistent and passionate for the next several minutes, before ultimately, kissing just isn’t enough. 

He lays atop me now, hips grinding gloriously against hips as our tongues do battle. 

Every fiber of our beings crying out simultaneously for more touch, more skin, more feeling.

More everything.

His lack of experience is now even more surprising, as he seems to almost instinctually be able to read my body like a map. 

Sending pure unadulterated electricity coursing through my every nerve. 

He kisses my neck, knowing just how weak it makes me. 

Yet again, I feel him pressed against my thigh and almost all the restraint I have in me seems to be a thing of the past. 

He fumbles awkwardly with the strap of my bra, stubbornly refusing my offer of help.

”No, Lucy, if can’t get this damn thing off, I don’t fucking deserve to see ‘em!” 

When it comes time to take his own shirt off, however, the matter is no simpler. 

“I think I’ll just leave this on,” he says, attempting to kiss me again, his hands exploring my now bare chest. 

“Why would you leave your shirt on?”

He pulls away from me slightly. 

“I have this thing with my chest.”

“What kind of thing? Like a third nipple or something?” 

His eyes grow wide, he starts to laugh, shaking his head. 

“No, not a fucking third nipple.”

“Oh, phew!” I pretend to wipe sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. 

“That’s a relief.” 

“Lucy, I-.” 

“I can deal with anything but a third nipple.” 

“I want to tell y-.”

“I’m sorry, Eric, but we all need to draw our line in the sand somewhere an-.”

“Lucy!” he laughs. 

“Will you please just shut the fuck up for a second?”

“Sorry,” I gesture zipping my lips closed and wait for him to continue.

“I was born with this condition that basically means part of my chest is sunken in,” he tells me, suddenly looking far more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen him.

“I had a couple of operations for it when I was a kid, but it’s still a little noticeable.” 

“Is that why you didn’t want me to see you without your shirt on earlier?” 

He nods his head. 

“It’s you that I care about, Eric, not your damn chest, and besides, I’m sure that it’s perfect, just like you.” 

“Now take the damn shirt off...”

We’re both completely naked now as we lay above and below two layers of somewhat itchy sleeping bags. 

Eric kisses me deeply, his fingers trailing down the length of my face. 

“Are you ready?” 

“You know I am.”

Our lips meet again as he lowers a hand down beneath the blanket to position himself between my legs.

“Eric, wait!” 

“What?” he asks, somewhat impatiently. 

“What is it?” 

“Do you have a condom?” 

“As a matter of fact, I do. It’s just-.” 

“Oh no.”

“What is it?” 

“Fuck. I left it at Blackjack.”

I look at him, surprised.

“You left a condom at work?”

“Why, you big weirdo?” 

“I left my wallet there last night after my shift, I had a condom in there, just in case.”

“Just in case what?” I ask, feigning offense.

“Just in case I happen to find myself hanging out with some easy piece of ass such as yourself...” 

The roads are mostly deserted by this time of night, we barely meet any cars at all as we drive to the small strip-mall where Blackjack Pizza is located. 

“I can’t believe we’re actually going to these lengths just to have sex,” I laugh, shaking my head in disbelief as I stare ahead at the road in front of me. 

“You must want me pretty damn bad, huh?” Eric grins, lighting up a cigarette in the passenger seat. 

“I wouldn’t blame you, to be honest, Lucy.”

“Now that I’m shift manager at Blackjack, I’ve really started to move up in the world.”

He takes another quick drag before passing it over to me and lighting another one for himself. 

“Soon the ladies are going to take notice,” he says, blowing a cloud of smoke up toward the roof of the car. 

“And you’ll be fighting bitches left and right just to get close to me.”

Eric types in a passcode, then uses his newly given key to open the back door of the pizzeria. 

“Why, hello there, Miss, and welcome to Black Jack! My  name is Eric, and I’ll be your sever this evening!”

He pretends to straighten an invisible tie as he stands behind the counter.

“If I may say make a suggestion...”

...you look like you might enjoy a nice twelve-inch pepperoni.”

“Jesus, is that how you tried to pick up girls before we met?” I laugh, leaning against the counter. 

“That line has gotten me pussy more times than I can count, Lucy.” 

“Oh, I don’t doubt it for a second.” 

“Twelve inches, eh?” 

“I was being modest,” he grins. 

“So, now that we’re here, how about some lovin’ by the oven?”

“You’re insane!”

“Maybe so, but tell me, how would you feel about a little squeeze by the cheese?”

“Stop it,” I tell him, but I’m smiling widely as his hands grip my hips. 

He surprises me by suddenly lifting me upward, placing me down atop the counter. 

“We can’t, Eric,” I tell him, knowing my will is now virtually nonexistent. 

“We’re not even supposed to be here...”

“And yet we are,” he sighs. 

He kisses me again, my arms cradling his neck as I sit atop the counter in front of him, his fingers gripping my thighs. 

“Might as well make the most of it...” 

I kiss him back, wrapping my legs around his body as he presses his own up against me. 

“Oh, Mr. Manager,” I moan, as his lips find my neck again. 

He chuckles against my skin, tickling me. 

“Hey, Eric?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Will you make me a pizza?” 

He starts to laugh, raising his eyebrows at me. 

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I’m hungry. I think you mentioned something about a twelve-inch pepperoni.”

”I could really go for one.” 

I watch, somewhat fascinated, still straddling the countertop, as Eric gets to work. 

He even dons his apron, much to my surprise, beginning to work the dough along the flour-covered counter in front of him. 

Once he has the shape roughly rolled out, he starts to show off, tossing the dough up and down in the air repeatedly, then catching it again.

“Show off.”

“Hey, they don’t call me Mr. Shift Manager for nothing, Lucy.” 

The two of us share the pizza, which I have to admit, is pretty damn good, as we sit next to one another on the countertop of the deserted pizzeria. 

“I was stuffed two slices ago, but I can’t seem to stop,” I complain, picking up another piece from the half-empty box. 

Eric smiles at me, pulling his now safely retrieved wallet from his pocket. 

“Well, don’t get go getting too full,” he warns me. 

“I don’t want you thinking your lazy ass can just lay there and let me do all the work.”

The plan is to head back to Dylan’s and decide from there on which of the two extremely romantic options we’ll be going with. 

Either the floor of the pool house or the backseat of the car. 

As we embrace again, however, the plan soon goes out the window. 

And what was supposed to be a quick trip, just in and out in five minutes, we’d said, has now turned into almost an hour. 

Before the two of us somehow end up together on a small couch in the back room. 

We’re both slightly too tall for it, and it’s almost comical as we begin to search for a somewhat comfortable position.

Soon, either from finding one, or just giving up, we settle in and continue where we’d left off at the pool house. 

“You ready?” 

I nod, wordlessly, pulling his face down toward me for just one more kiss.

Then he’s on top of me again, inside of me this time.

A low, throaty groan leaves his lips. 

“Is this okay?” 

“Yes.”

Another steady barrage of kisses follows. 

He thrusts a little deeper and a small hiss, unwillingly escapes my mouth as my body adjusts to him. 

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, concerned. 

“No, Eric, it feels good, keep going...”

He starts to move his hips, slowly at first, then begins to set a slightly quicker pace for himself. 

Once we become used to this, he allows himself to go a little faster. 

The prettiest stream of noises pour steadily from his mouth as he does, only adding to my own building pleasure. 

“My God, Eric!” 

“Call me Reb,” he moans, his face now buried in the crook of my neck, my hands gripping onto his back for what feels like dear life.

The intensity builds and builds as our bodies move together on the old, beaten up couch that lays beneath us. 

And soon, I feel myself almost completely overcome with what can only be described as pure unfiltered bliss. 

“That feels so fucking good, Reb...” 

“Jesus Christ, Lucy!” he groans, his body shaking somewhat violently atop me.

“Fuck!” 

And just like that, it’s over. 

The two of us lay there, sweaty and silent for a couple of moments, allowing our respective heartbeats to slowly return to a normal rhythm. 

“That was... fucking amazing...” 

“It sure was,” I agree, lazily running my fingers through his hair. 

“I’m sorry if it was over a little quickly,” he apologizes. 

“That’s alright,” I smile. 

“Plenty of time to make it up to me.”

“I don’t know, Lucy, that was really fucking fun and all, but I really think we should clean up and get the fuck out of here before-.”

“I didn’t mean here, you idiot,” I laugh, pulling out a box of cigarettes from my pocket.

I light two and hand one to Eric, still breathing hard next to me. 

I notice him looking at me strangely as he accepts it.

Putting the cigarette between his lips, he takes a deep drag, staring at me.

His expression, once more, unreadable. 

“You okay?” I ask, taking a deep drag of my own. 

For some reason it’s the best cigarette I’ve had in a long time. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” he nods, but I can’t help noticing that he looks a little sad. 

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he insists. “ I just...”

“Just what?”

“Just love you is all,” he says, finally.

”More than you know...”

”... more than I probably should.”

I shuffle closer to him on the couch, wrapping an arm around his bare shoulder. 

”Then why do you look so sad?”

He sighs heavily.

“Because this fucking complicates things.”

“How so?” 

He frowns deeply, taking another drag, before exhaling a cloud of smoke upward. 

“It just does.”

I stare at him, quietly, waiting for him to elaborate. 

He doesn't. 

”Come on, Lucy, grab your shit, and let’s head back,” he says, retrieving his boxers from the floor and hastily pulling them back on.

“We should probably go make sure that fucker in the pool house still has a pulse.” 


	8. A Rose By Any Other Name

Still groggy, fresh out of bed, I make my way down the stairs, clad in my slippers and dressing gown. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” Dad cheerily calls from the kitchen. 

I swear to God that man could hear a dog fart from six miles away.

It’s nothing short of miraculous that he didn’t catch Eric the night he’d snuck in through my bedroom window. 

“Be an angel and grab the newspaper from the porch for me, would you, Lucy?”

As I open the front door to grab the paper, I’m met with something strange. 

A single, long-stem rose, dyed-black, lying on the welcome mat.

Bending to pick it up, I notice a small piece of paper attached to the end of it. 

‘My dearest, Lucy, the universe may conspire to keep us apart, but our love is written in the stars.’ 

This can’t be from Eric. 

Why would he write that the universe was conspiring to keep us apart, when we’re already together? 

My second thought is that it’s from Scott. 

I quickly dismiss the idea, knowing there isn’t a cat’s chance in Hell he could ever come up with something that poetic on his own.

So, who the fuck is it from? 

Laura, maybe? 

Could she be attempting to mess with my new relationship? 

No, that’s giving her too much credit. 

She’s no evil mastermind, just a nasty, petty little bitch. 

I grab the paper, bringing it inside for Dad, still wondering about the mysterious black rose and the cryptic message left with it.

Taking it upstairs, I put it in a narrow vase of water, placing it atop my dresser, sans the strange note, that’s now tucked safely away in one of the drawers. 

Hours later, Eric and I are sat opposite one another on my bed, surrounded by school books, doing homework for the one class we actually have together. 

“What’s your favorite quote from the play, and why?” Eric mutters, squinting down at the sheet of paper in his hand. 

I don’t have to think about my answer for long. 

“Hell is empty and all the devils are here.”

“Why is that one your favorite?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at me. 

“Because it applies to the real world just as much as it does the play.”

I scribble the quote down on the corner of my sheet, for later reference. 

“What about you?” 

He takes a second or two to consider the question before replying. 

“Good wombs have borne bad sons.” 

“Why is that one your fa-.”

We’re suddenly interrupted by my Dad, sticking his head in from around the corner of the door. 

“You kids behaving yourselves?”

“Yes, Mr. Peters, of course,” Eric smiles as though butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. 

“We always are.” 

“I know you two have plans later, Lucy, but your sister is going to be here in an hour.” 

“Since she’s not here that often these days, your Mom wants us all to have dinner together as a family tonight.” 

“Can Eric stay for dinner?” 

“Sure he can,” Dad laughs, leaning against the frame of the door. 

“If he’s brave enough to dine with your Mother after the last time, that is!” 

Eric and I finish our homework before joining my family downstairs. 

Thankfully, Mom is in much better spirits than the last time, far more merry than she is confrontational tonight. 

“You must be the boyfriend,” Sarah grins, pulling a very surprised Eric into an unexpected bear-hug. 

All I can do is smile as he looks at me, wide-eyed, from over my sister’s shoulder. 

“That I am,” he awkwardly chuckles, as she finally releases him from her embrace. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

My sister is home for a couple of days, having just broken up with her on again off again boyfriend for what seems to be the fiftieth time. 

I can tell she’s a little down about the situation, especially having to come back home and be around her arch-nemesis, aka; Mom. 

So, I invite her to tag along with us, in hopes of cheering her up, or at least providing a fun distraction. 

The three of us pile into Eric’s car, then drive to Dylan’s house to pick him up. 

“I still feel like I’m fucking dying, man,” Dylan grumbles, as Eric and I greet him outside. 

“Why the hell did you guys let me drink all that whiskey last night?”

“Let you?” Eric repeats, incredulously. 

“Dude, we told you to take it easy at least five times!” 

“You made Lucy’s Mom look like a fucking light-weight last night.”

“Hey!” I scold him. “That’s not nice!” 

“It’s true though,” he says. “Isn’t it?” 

“Well, yeah,” I admit. “Still, I don’t like you talking shit about my Mom, Eric.”

“You call her a lush all the time!” he laughs.

“Yeah, I know, but it’s only okay when I do it!” 

“Oh,” Dylan smirks. “Trouble in paradise, huh?” 

“Fuck, no!” Eric replies, as though offended by the very suggestion. 

“Really?” Dylan presses, looking over at me now. 

“Even though he’s talking smack about your Mother?” 

“Stop trying to stir shit, Vodka, and get your damn Sasquatch looking ass into the car!” 

“Says the guy who looks like a preying-mantis,” Dylan mutters, pulling open the handle of the car door.

“What was that, Klebold?” Eric asks, his voice razor sharp. 

“You heard me, dickhead!” 

The two of them start to laugh.

”I think whiskey might be a little more appropriate as a nickname now,” I comment, smiling at the two of them.

”Nah, it just doesn’t roll off the tongue as nicely as-.“

Dylan freezes, suddenly spotting my sister sat in the backseat.

“Dylan, this is my sister, Sarah. She’s coming with us.” 

“Um... hi,” he quietly greets her, offering up a somewhat shy smile as he stares into the back of the car. 

“Hi yourself,” she grins at a now slightly flustered looking Dylan, patting the seat next to her.

“Slide on in next to me, big boy, and let’s get this show on the road!”

Eric and I exchange a quick look of mutual amusement as Dylan’s cheeks flush a subtle shade of pink.

He nods his head, wordlessly, climbing into the back next to her. 

Loud Carnival-style music, children’s laughter and a flurry of bright lights await us as we arrive at the usually barren field where the annual state fair is now being held. 

Half of Littleton must be here, I observe, as Eric and I walk hand and hand through the entrance gate, Sarah and Dylan followingclosely behind. 

“You guys know what might put the fun in fun-fair?” Sarah smiles mischievously at the three of us as she reaches into her jacket pocket. 

She produces a small bag containing several small, grenade-shaped pills. 

“Jesus, Sarah!” I grab the bag from her hand, glancing quickly around to see if anyone has noticed. 

“Oh, chill out, Lucy,” she says, rolling her eyes at me. “It’s just a little ecstasy, what’s the big deal?” 

“The big deal is that our Dad is a fucking cop, Sarah, and everyone in town knows that we’re his kids!” 

“And you think it’s a good idea to pull out a bag of drugs and wave them around at the fucking state fair for all the world to see!” 

“She’s right, Lucy,” Eric begins to laugh next to me.  “You need to take a chill-pill, literally.” 

The boys immediately want to try their hand at the shooting booth, where long water-pistols, resembling shotguns, are used to squirt water at the targets.

Eric hands the booth operator a ten dollar bill before the three of us each grab a gun from their respective stands. 

Sarah watches from a nearby bench, looking rather amused as she holds a cigarette between two long, slender fingers. 

We all take aim and begin to shoot steady streams of water across the booth. 

“The two of you are so damn cute!” 

“I need to get a photo,” Sarah declares, pulling the Polaroid camera she brought along with her from the bag as she stands from the bench. 

“Hold up the guns!” 

Eric indulges her, wrapping an arm around my shoulder as the two of us strike a Mickey and Mallory style pose, clutching our fake shotguns. 

She takes the picture, lets it develop, then gives it a quick wave. 

Eric puts his gun back down on the stand, walking over to look at it. 

“Hey, can I have that?” he asks, smiling down at the still slightly blurry picture in my sister’s hand. 

“Sure,” she says, handing it over to him. 

He smiles at it again, then tucks it away in his pocket. 

“Damn, I could really go for a hot-dog right about now,” Sarah informs us, as a gaggle of over-excited, screaming children run past. 

“So could I,” Dylan agrees. 

“Come on then,” she grins, linking her arm with his. 

“Let’s go get one.” 

Much to our amusement, Dylan looks at the two of us as if my sister just began doing naked cartwheels in front of him. 

Sarah, and a slightly apprehensive lookingDylan venture off together in search of the hot-dog vendor, leaving Eric and I on our own. 

We end up playing a couple of clearly rigged games at another booth. 

I suspect the cans that Eric is hurling balls at has something behind them, stopping them from falling. 

He soon realizes this himself, and winds his arm back like he’s about to pitch a baseball, before firing the next ball, full-force, towards the cans. 

He does the same with the next two, and whatever is stopping the cans from falling, finally gives, as several of the cans go tumbling toward the ground. 

The man operating the booth looks severely irritated as he reluctantly hands over a huge stuffed panda to a now very smug looking Eric. 

“Here,” he says, smiling proudly as he hands the large, stuffed animal to me. 

“A new friend for my good buddy, Mr. Bigglesworth.” 

“Aw, thanks, Eric. I’m sure they’ll get along famously.”

“Hey, do you wanna go get some cotton-candy?” 

“I’m not ten years old, Lucy.” 

“Is that a no?”

“I didn’t say that.” 

A couple of minutes later, Eric, my newly acquired panda and I are sat next to one another on a bench near the tea-cups, sharing a giant stick of cotton-candy. 

“I’m not feeling anything yet,” Eric says, pulling another small piece from the fluffy pink mass of spun sugar in my hand. 

He pops it into his mouth.

“Are you?” 

“Not yet,” I reply, taking off another piece of my own, it dissolves instantaneously on my tongue. 

“Maybe we didn’t take enough.”

“Maybe not,” he agrees. 

“So, do you think Dylan has a shot with Sarah?”

I’m a little taken aback by the question.

“She’s a little old for him, don’t you think?” 

“So?” he says. “You’re older than me.”

“Yeah, by like two months.”

“Well, I figured if I don’t mind dating an old lady, neither would he.” 

“Piss off,” I laugh, popping another pink strand into my mouth. 

“Besides, she has a boyfriend. Sort of.” 

“That’s a shame, the two of them seem to be hitting it off.”

”He seems even lonelier than usual lately. It’d be awesome if he met a nice girl, too.”

“Nice girl, huh? That’s probably the kindest thing you’ve called me in a while.” 

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. I have a reputation to maintain, you know.”

“Do you?” 

“Oh, fuck yeah. Balls of steel Harris they call me.” 

“Nobody has ever fucking called you that, Eric!” 

“Well, maybe you should start doing it,” he laughs.

”It might catch on.”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll get right on that...”

Eric leans down, devouring a large mouthful of cotton-candy before his lips are suddenly pressed against mine. 

He still has some cotton-candy protruding from his mouth, and as it meets my own, I feel it melt between our lips, the taste of sugar dancing on our tongues. 

“I’m starting to feel a little wavy, Lucy.” 

“So am I,” I admit.

“And that damn clown over there keeps fucking staring at me.”

I look over my shoulder to see a heavily made-up woman, with a wild bouffant of dyed, coke-can red hair and a very colorful shirt, minding her own business. 

“I think she is, too,” I whisper, not wanting her to hear us. 

“Do you think we should make a run for it?” 

“No,” Eric shakes his head. 

“Not yet anyway. I need to wait for the other two to come back first.”

“Why is that?” 

His eyes dart quickly from side to side, then he focuses his gaze on me. 

“I don’t wanna alarm you, Lucy, but I think those other fuckers might have taken my damn legs with them when they left...”

Eventually, after quite some time of wandering aimlessly through the fairground, we find Sarah and Dylan near the House of Mirrors. 

My sister is leaning against a tall oak tree, smiling at Dylan, who appears to be telling her a story, gesturing wildly with his hands. 

Eric poses in front of the large mirror by the entrance, his hazel eyes growing wide as he slowly waves his hand around in front of him. 

“Woah, is that what I look like?” 

Dylan is standing before another mirror that makes him look far taller than he already is.

“I don’t know,” I reply, pointing over at the mirror Dylan is currently checking himself out in. 

“But this place is a total rip-off, because that’s exactly what Dylan looks like.” 

“I can’t believe we paid for this shit,” Dylan complains. 

“House of Mirrors, more like house of lies.” 

“Oh My God!” I gasp, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror opposite me. 

“When did I get so fat? It must have been from all that cotton-candy.”

My sister starts to laugh.

“You’re not fat,” Eric insists, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind. 

“You’re fucking beautiful.” 

I turn around to face him.

“Oh, Eric, I love you.” 

“I love you, too, Lucy,” he says, his lips curling into a wide smile. 

“So Goddamn much.”

“You’re my whole fucking world, and even if you do really get that fat, I’ll still love you forever.” 

Even though I know full well we’re both tripping balls, I can’t help being moved by his words. 

A wave of sudden euphoria washes over me as I clasp his face between my hands. 

“You’re incredible, do you know that?” 

As our mouths meet once more, it feels as though our lips are sticking together, almost like I mistook a tube of superglue for chapstick. 

It’s an odd, yet not entirely unpleasant sensation. 

“You two are fucking disgusting,” Dylan mutters. 

“Don’t be jealous, man,” Eric tells him. 

“I’m not fucking jealous,” Dylan insists, pulling a carton of cigarettes from the pocket of his jeans. 

“Not wanting to lose my damn dinner all over the floor due to you sappy fucks does not equate to me being jealous.” 

“You sure, dude?” Eric asks. 

“Yes, I’m fucking sure!” 

The three of us turn to look at him.

“Whatever, man,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I’m  going for a quick smoke.” 

“If I can even find my way out of this fucking maze, that is...”

Sarah helps escort Dylan to the exit for the aforementioned quick smoke.

That was odd. 

Dylan often makes innocent jokes about the two of us being “sappy fuckers,” but there was a definite hint of hostility there when he made that last comment. 

“What’s his problem?” I ask, now that we’re alone again. 

“I don’t know,” Eric says, shrugging his shoulders, examining his contorted reflection in yet another mirror. “Dylan is weird sometimes.”

“Maybe that damn clown was giving him the evil eye, too.” 

We stop by Blackjack on the way home to grab some pizza, the affects of the drugs having finally begun to wear off. 

Eric and I head in on our own for the pies while the other two wait, listening to music in the car. 

“Is this bringing back any memories from last night?” he smirks, grabbing the handle of the door.

He holds it open for me and I walk in ahead of him. 

“Were we hanging out last night?” I ask, feigning ignorance. “I totally forgot.”

“Ouch, Lucy! Cut me, do I not bleed?” 

“Of course, it makes me think of last night,” I tell him, unable to fight the smilenow spreading across my face. 

“I’m not about to go forgetting one of the best nights of my life that quickly.” 

I glance back to see him donning a wide, matching smile of his own. 

“Me neither,” he grins, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at me. 

“To be honest with you, I remembered it a couple of times as soon as I got home last night and once again this morning...”

”... if you catch my drift.” 

“Yes, Eric, I do.” 

“Hell, there’s a deaf old lady who lives on the other side of Denver that catches your fucking drift.” 

He chuckles as we make our way towards the temporarily abandoned front counter, waiting to be served. 

I feel my face grow slightly hot as I recall the way he’d placed me atop that very counter and kissed me the night before.

How he’d lead me by the hand towards the back, where we’d ended up together on that small, over-stuffed couch in the corner...

“I can’t fucking wait to watch the footage from the security camera in the backroom.” 

My mouth falls open in horror. 

He stares at me for a couple of long seconds, his face serious as a heart attack, before beginning to laugh. 

“The look on your damn face!” he says, barely managing to get the words out between fits of laughter. 

“Relax, Lucy goosey.”

”They’re way too fucking cheap to spring for a camera back there, unfortunately.”

We eat our pizza in the car, Sarah, who had claimed she wasn’t hungry, grabbing a slice or two from the large pepperoni Eric and I are sharing, mushrooms on my half, green peppers on his. 

Dylan demolishes three quarters of a large, meat-lover’s pizza in the back, kindly allowing my sister to pick off the occasional piece of bacon and/or pepperoni for herself. 

Eric drops Dylan home first, then heads towards our house. 

Sarah says goodnight to him and goes inside, kindly giving us a couple of precious minutes on our own. 

I tell Eric about the rose with the mysterious note from earlier. 

As expected, he doesn’t take it well. 

“What kind of creepy motherfucker leaves a note like that?!” 

“I have no idea, Eric.” 

“Who the hell do you think it was from?” he asks, poorly attempting to conceal his annoyance as it seeps out in his voice.

”I bet it was that fucking asshole, Scott, trying to win you back!”

“I don’t think so, it doesn’t seem like him.”

”He never gave me flowers when we were dating and the guy is barely fucking literate to be honest.” 

Eric frowns at me from the other side of the car. 

“Our love is written in the stars,” he scoffs, his voice heavy with disdain. 

“That’s the cheesiest fucking shit I’ve ever heard in my life!” 

“Well, it doesn’t matter either way.”

I reach over, taking his hand in mine, almost habitually now, giving it a quick squeeze of reassurance. 

“I’m yours and you’re mine and you there’s not a damn thing anyone can do about it.”

He manages a smile as he squeezes my hand back, but I know him well enough at this point to be able to tell that he’s still pissed off. 

“I’m going to find out who did that, Lucy.”

“And then what, detective?” I ask, not sure I actually want to hear the answer. 

“Then I’m gonna go full blown Kathy Bates mode on their fucking ass, that’s what!”


	9. You Get Me Closer To God

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to anyone and everyone reading this who feels lost or alone in the world. Please know that you are loved, you are important, and that you have both a place and a purpose here on this Earth. 
> 
> Hang in there, kitty. ❤️

The cafeteria is bustling with activity as Eric and I sit opposite one another at a table by the window, enjoying the warmth of the sunshine spilling in.

He repeatedly fires a ball of crumpled up paper across the table with one hand, catching it with the other before sending it flying back again.

I chew absentmindedly on the cap of my pen, frowning down at the series of unsolvable equations in front of me.

“God, I suck at Math.”

“Speaking of,” he says, smiling devilishly at me from the other side of the table. “I just so happen to have something you can suck on, if you want to that is.”

I laugh, despite myself.

“Shut up, you damn pervert.”

My eyes dart back down to the sheet of pure frustration in front of me.

“Jesus, though, I really am awful at this.”

“And driving,” he adds, shooting the wad of paper across the table again.

“Don’t forget about driving, you’re pretty awful at that, too.”

“Hey, I’m a better driver than you,” I protest, glancing back up at him from the sheet I would very much like to crumple into a ball myself.

“I’ve never gotten a speeding ticket before.”

“Oh, please don’t remind me,” he sighs, the ball of paper continuing to fly back and fourth from one hand to the other.

“My parents are going to fucking kill me when they find out.”

“Hey, is there any chance your Dad could pull a couple of strings for me?” 

“Very little,” I reply, smiling at him.

“Besides, you know what he’s like, he wouldn’t even want me going around in the car with you anymore if he found out.”

“Yeah, well, my folks are probably going to take the car from me for a while as a punishment,” he informs me, looking extremely downtrodden by the prospect.

“So, we’re not gonna have to worry about that just yet.”

“You said they were going out of town tonight, though, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” he says, a slow grin beginning to form on his face. “You’re still coming over later, right?”

I can’t help but laugh, knowing full well just what “later” entails in his mind.

“Of course I am, and don’t worry about the car, I can always drive you around until you get it back.”

“Well, shit,” he says, starting to laugh a little himself as he tosses the ball of paper into the air.

“Thanks, Lucy, let’s just hope I don’t have to go anywhere in a hurry.”

He catches it, then sends it flying skyward once more.

“I know how much you hate having to drive over five miles an hour, Grandma.”

I roll my eyes at him.

“Careful, Harris, or Grandma is going to make your sorry ass walk to school each day.”

He laughs again, tossing the ball of paper across the room towards a nearby trash can, where it bounces off the rim and lands on the floor next to it.

“Hell, anything would be better than carpooling with that asshole, Brooks again, at least you might actually show up on time.”

“I don’t know what your problem is with him, Eric, he seems like such a nice guy.”

He cocks an eyebrow at me, looking skeptical.

“I don’t know about that, Lucy. No offense, but I’m not sure you’re exactly the best judge of character.”

“And just what the fuck does that mean?”

“Looks can be deceiving,” he says, with a shrug of his shoulders. “That’s all.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“Not really, no.”

“Still want me to come over tonight?”

He furrows his brow in confusion.

“Yeah, of course I do.”

“Then tell me what you meant by that.”

Now he’s the one rolling his eyes.

“Well, you were friends with thunder-cunt for years before you realized what she was really like, weren’t you?”

I’m forced to agree with him somewhat on that point.

“Touché.”

“Did you hear she’s coming back today?” he asks, picking up one of the two unopened cans of coke between us on the table.

I hadn’t, but the thought of seeing her again has my stomach tied in knots of sudden anxiety.

My intent is to act uncaring towards the news, but either my facial response betrays me, or Eric just knows me too damn well at this stage.

“Don’t worry,” he says, cracking open the can of soda his hand.

“She’s not gonna fuck with you again, Lucy, you can be sure as shit about that.”

I stare at him while he tilts his head back, taking a long gulp, before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“How do you know?”

“Because her parents aren’t gonna be able to afford a third car for her that quickly if she does.”

I force myself to resist the urge to laugh, not wanting to encourage him, as he smirks at me from the opposite end of the table.

“Eric, you promised me no more crazy shit,” I remind him. “Remember?”

“Alright, alright,” he agrees, drumming his fingers up and down along the edge of the table, as though it were a piano and not a lunch table he was sat before.

“No more unnecessary acts of arson, I promise.”

An hour or so later, I’m standing in the hall by my locker when I’m approached by Dylan, still donning his long, black trench coat.

Even though it’s probably one of the hottest days of the year outside.

“Hey, Lucy,” he greets me with a small, friendly smile, leaning up against the wall of lockers to my right. “How’s life been treating you?”

“Could be better, could be worse,” I answer, pausing to look at him before continuing to reorganize the contents of my locker.

“What about you?”

“Same, I guess,” he shrugs. “Besides having to spend another day in this Godforsaken hell-hole that is.”

“Hey, Eric told me someone left a flower for you on your front porch, ever find out who it was from?”

“No,” I shake my head. “I can’t stop thinking about, though.”

“Oh, yeah?” he raises his eyebrows, smiling at me.

”Why is that?”

“There was a really weird note left with it.”

“Weird?” he repeats. “How so?”

“It said the universe conspires to keep us apart, but our love is written in the stars.”

“Oh, yeah,” he nods. “Eric told me about that, too.”

“You really thought it was weird?”

“Well, kind of, yeah, don’t you?”

“You didn’t find it just the tiniest bit romantic?”

I look at him as though he just sprouted a second head.

“Not really, no, not when I have no idea who the fuck it was even from.”

He raises an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side as he looks down at me.

“Oh, okay, I guess I can see where you’re coming from when you put it like that.”

“So,” he loudly clears his throat.

“Eric was pretty pissed about it, huh?”

“That may be the understatement of the century, Dylan,” I smile, continuing to rearrange the last few books in my locker.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, the note did have a certain poetic beauty to it, I just found it strange is all.”

”I’ve never loved anyone before Eric, so I’m not really sure what they meant by it.”

“Oh,” he replies simply. “I see.”

“Did you end up keeping it?”

“Yes,” I admit.

“Please don’t tell, Eric, though, it was just so pretty and I’ve never seen a black rose before.”

“Don’t worry, Lucy,” he grins, pretending to zip his lips closed.

“It’ll be our little secret.”

“Hey, did you hear that Laura-.”

“Yeah,” I sigh. “Eric told me.”

“Isn’t that her locker?” he asks, pointing to one near the top, three rows over from my own.

“Yeah, it is,” I nod. “Why?”

“Because I’d like to leave her a nice little message to welcome her back.”

“What do you-.”

Dylan surprises me by pulling a small pair of scissors from one of the deep pockets of his trench coat.

“Why are you carrying around a pair of scissors with you, weirdo?”

“Or is that just some kind of magical trench coat you can pull whatever you need out of like Mary Poppins’ handbag?”

“That would come in pretty fucking handy,” he laughs, opening and closing the blades a few times as he begins to play with the scissors in his hand.

“It also might explain why you’re wearing it when it’s hotter than hell outside...”

“Are you expecting a sudden drastic change of weather or something?”

“Jesus, is this the kind of merciless teasing poor Eric has to endure all the time?” he asks, still laughing as he walks over toward the locker in question.

Gripping the scissors in his left hand, he begins to scratch one of the blades against the door of Laura’s locker.

“Dylan, I don’t think you should do that,” I warn him, eyes rapidly scanning the hallway for potential witnesses.

“Sure I should,” he says, ignoring my advice as he continues to drag the scissors along the metal door in front of him.

“You just think you have to be a good girl all the time because your Daddy is a pig.”

“Please stop fucking calling him that, Dylan!”

“I’m sorry, Lucy,” he apologizes, but it sounds completely disingenuous as he starts to chuckle, eyes now firmly focused on the task at hand

I’m powerless to do anything but stand there and watch as he begins to scratch what seems to be the word ‘bitch’ into my former friend’s locker.

He’s almost finished, now on the letter ‘C,’ when a shrill voice suddenly screams his name from the other side of the hall.

“Dylan Klebold! Just what in God’s name do you think you’re doing?!”

The two of us turn, horrified to meet with the very displeased face of Mrs. Folger, the Chemistry teacher.

“Oh, shit,” Dylan mutters.

After school, I borrow the car again and make the short drive over to Eric’s house.

He greets me in the driveway with a wide smile and a hug, gripping me tightly against him, responding to my arrival as though we hadn’t seen each other in days.

Taking me by the hand, he leads me toward the front door.

“My parents are already gone, so it’s just you, me and Sparky for the evening.”

We stop temporarily in the hall to play with his adorable Yorkshire-Terrier.

He’s been having some health problems lately, so Eric is fussing over him far more than usual.

“Beans on toast is my specialty, you know,” he says, kindly offering to make the two of us something to eat.

A little while later, the two of us sit down at the kitchen table, each with a plate of slightly burnt toast and lukewarm beans in front of us.

“I think pizza might be your specialty, Eric,” I tell him, pilling some of the beans atop the toast with my fork.

“You practically cremated the bread.”

He bites down on one of his own slices of toast, crunching it between his teeth.

“I guess if we ever get married some day, I’ll have do the driving and you can do all the cooking.”

“Oh, fuck that, I can’t cook for shit either.”

“And yet you have the nerve to criticize my cooking skills?” he laughs, shaking his head at me in mock disbelief.

“Isn’t that kind of like the pot calling the kettle black?”

I swallow a mouthful of beans before replying.

“Maybe, but I doubt either of them could ever be as black as this fucking toast is.”

Eric’s bedroom is almost like a furnace from the heat of the day, the unpredictable Colorado weather rendering us uncomfortably warm.

He peels off his long flannel shirt, throwing it carelessly over onto the bed, then casts his gaze along the length of the large CD collection that adorns three sizable shelves on his bedroom wall.

Finally, he locates the one he wants and places it in the stereo, closing down the lid and pressing play.

The familiar sound of Nine Inch Nails begins to play.

Stepping toward me, he closes in the last bit of distance between us, hazel eyes twinkling mischievously.

‘ _You let me violate you.”_

He presses his lips to mine, and much like the day itself, they're searing hot.

‘ _You let me penetrate you.’_

I kiss him back, feverishly chasing the intoxicatingly sweet euphoria only his mouth can provide.

‘ _You let me desecrate you.’_

We kiss until I’m dizzy, until I’m completely and utterly drunk on him.

Until everything else seeps out of me and I am nothing but a living, breathing, walking pulse, conscious only of what I want him to do to me, and how incredible he makes me feel.

‘ _You let me complicate you.’_

Soon, we’re nothing but a tangled mess of hands and lips as we stumble around his large, basement bedroom.

‘ _Help me, I’ve broke apart my insides.’_

He grabs me by the waist of my skirt and yanks it, suddenly breaking the elastic of the waistband.

The torn fabric falls to the floor in a pile.

“Fuck you, Eric,” I whisper against his lips.

“I liked that skirt.”

“ _Help me, I’ve got no soul to sell.’_

He grabs me, spinning me around.

“Shut up,” he demands, pulling my hands together, gripping them hard behind my back.

‘ _Help me, the only thing that works for me.’_

“Ouch, Eric!” I pretend to complain, the two of us knowing damn well that I’m enjoying it as he begins to man-handle me.

“You’re such a bastard.”

‘ _Help me get away from myself.’_

He pulls me away from the desk we’re standing by, tossing me down onto the bed as effortlessly as though I were a rag-doll.

‘ _I wanna fuck you like an animal.’_

“Oh, Sweetheart,” he chuckles darkly, licking his lips in anticipation as he stares down at me, lying across the length of his bed.

“You haven’t seen anything yet.”

‘ _I wanna feel you from the inside.’_

His footsteps are loud and heavy, still wearing his combat boots as he walks over to the side of the bed.

‘ _I wanna fuck you like an animal.’_

Kneeling down, he open the top drawer of his bedside locker and fishes around inside.

’ _My whole existence is flawed.’_

He quickly finds what he’s looking for, pulling out a set of stainless-steel handcuffs before rising to his feet again.

‘ _You get me closer to God.’_

I eye him with nervous anticipation as he grins down at me, cuffs dangling from his long slender fingers, as the music continues to play in the background.

I’m wearing only a thin blouse and a pair of underwear now, but he’s still fully dressed, clad in the black Rammstein shirt he’d been wearing the night we met, dark pants and his signature backwards ‘KMFDM’ baseball cap.

’ _You can have my isolation, you can have the hate that it brings.’_

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Lucy, but it’ll go a hell of a lot easier for you if you just do as you’re told.”

I’d be lying if I said his authoritative tone of voice didn’t leave me feeling a little weak, in the most wonderfully depraved sort of way.

He waits for my reaction, staring down at me intently, quietly studying my face as he bites down on the flesh of his lower lip.

Seemingly having no idea of the profoundly perverse affect it has on me and my body whenever he does so.

‘ _You can have my absence of faith, you can have my everything.’_

Continuing to look down at me, I can tell he’s silently offering me a chance to change my mind, but turning back now, as far as I’m concerned, is a complete impossibility.

Stopping what is about to occur between us, the farthest thing from my mind.

“Yes, Reb,” I tell him. “Of course.”

“So, you understand who’s in charge, then?”

I respond just as I know he wants me to, nodding my head obediently.

“Good girl.”

Climbing atop me, he pins my wrists above my head and kisses my neck, sucking and lightly nipping at the soft skin beneath his mouth.

“Oh My God, Eric.”

He pauses, bringing his face up to look at me, frowning.

“What the fuck did you just call me?”

“I’m sorry, Reb.”

“That’s more fucking like it.”

The handcuffs jingle together as he grips them in his hand, and I can feel myself starting to unravel, beginning to come apart at the seams.

He is everything I’ve ever wanted.

Without even knowing it.

“And I won’t have you giving God credit for what I’m about to do to you either,” he informs me, fastening the cold metal bracelets closed around my wrists.

‘ _I wanna feel you from the inside.’_

My heart starts to beat a little faster as I look up at him, his pupils fully blown with lust, much like I imagine my own must be.

Now restrained beneath him, my wrists chained to the bars of his headboard, I can’t help feeling a little vulnerable, but trusting him implicitly, am more than ready for him to continue.

Welcoming, and eager for him to show me just how dark his intentions truly are.

‘ _You get me closer to God.’_

His eyelids are heavy, his expression one of total unbridled lust as I willingly, happily even, allow him to exert his power over me.

“You’re going to be a good girl and do exactly what I tell you to, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” he asks, his voice low, sensuous and beautifully demanding.

“Yes, Reb.”

His face is somewhat smug as he smiles down at me, fingers trailing gently down the length of my cheek.

“That’s my girl.”

Hands part my legs forcefully, then he climbs on top of me, settling in between them.

‘ _Help me, the only thing that works for me, help me get away from myself.’_

Sliding a hand under the pillow next to me, he pulls out a small knife from underneath and takes it from the casing.

“You still okay with this?”

I nod my head again, unable to even try to form a coherent sentence anymore.

He slowly brings the knife to my throat, the blade almost, but not quite, grazing the delicate skin beneath.

_‘I wanna fuck you like an animal.’_

My heart beats faster still as the cold steel ghosts against my neck.

“I could do whatever I wanted to you right now, you know,” he says, his voice thick with arousal, only serving to fuel my own.

‘ _I wanna feel you from the inside.’_

“I know,” I respond, failing to mention the fact that the very thought is, to me, exhilarating beyond belief.

“You look so damn pretty like this, Lucy,” he sighs.

“So powerless, completely helpless...”

I feel myself involuntarily getting wetter as my eyes dart up to meet his own.

“All laid out, just for me...”

_‘I wanna fuck you like an animal.’_

I am now hopelessly devoid of any and all reservations or restraint I previously may have possessed.

‘ _My whole existence is flawed.’_

“You’re mine to do whatever I want with now, aren’t you?”

‘ _You get me closer to God.’_

When I don’t reply, he repeats the question.

“Aren’t you?”

“Yes, Reb, I am.”

He grins deviously at me, still clutching the knife in one hand as he slowly begins to unbutton my blouse with the other, twisting each button in turn.

There’s a lot of them, and patience is definitely not one of his strong suits.

He discards the knife on the bed next to us, and several buttons fly from my shirt as he rips it open, revealing to him the soft, heaving flesh underneath.

Eric pauses momentarily, yet another heavy sigh escaping his lips as studies the freshly exposed skin beneath his fingers.

I try to move my hands, forgetting that I can’t for a second.

There’s no give in the cuffs whatsoever.

’ _Help me, tear down my reason.’_

He pinches one of my nipples, hurtfully and deliciously, then his mouth closes around it, nipping gently with his teeth as a moan falls from my lips.

’ _Help me, it’s your sex I can smell.’_

His mouth maps out a surprisingly loving trail of kisses down the length of my torso and stomach, making tingles of static electricity bloom inside of me.

After planting a small kiss just above my pubic bone, he stops briefly, glancing up at me.

’ _Help me, you make me perfect.’_

Grabbing the knife again, he brings it downward, and gingerly trails the blade along the skin of my bare thigh, not hard enough to cut me, but the silent threat is there.

And it excites me far more than it should.

It’s as though little fireworks are going off inside of me, all over my body, parts of myself I didn’t even know existed now bursting into life.

’ _Help me become somebody else.’_

The knife finds its way beneath the flimsy layer of material and is yanked upward, severing it.

He does the same on the other side, then hastily yanks what is now nothing but a torn piece of fabric from between my legs, before discarding it on the floor.

Reaching down between our bodies with one hand, he unzips his jeans and pulls himself out of his boxers, already hard as a board.

Still fully dressed himself, minus the partially pulled down jeans and boxers, I lay naked, pinned beneath him on the bed.

Positioning himself between my legs, a deep and lovely groan falls from his lips as he enters me.

My body arches up to meet him, hips bucking upward from the mattress as we begin to do things with our bodies to express things words just simply can’t.

We’ve had sex a couple of times over the course of the past few days, and although it’s always been amazing, this is something else entirely.

Allowing him to take control and dominate me like this, quickly taking me to surprising new peaks of previously unknown pleasure.

Awakening a secret part of myself, that has somehow lain dormant up until now.

All of my senses are completely overpowered as he thrusts inside me.

His pace quickly building as he fucks me hard into the mattress.

My hands grip his back, eyes rolling back in my head at the glorious sensations that are now rippling through me.

“Fuck, Lucy,” he moans.

“You feel so fucking good...”

Each gorgeous grunt and groan that leaves his mouth takes me closer and closer to the edge of impending bliss.

“Oh God, Reb, so do you, I’m so close...”

He groans loudly in response, intensifying the pace even more, going deeper, harder, thrusting his hips like a man possessed.

And God, the scent, and taste, and feel of him...

“Come for me, Lucy,” he says, his facial expression blatantly revealing the extent of his own mounting pleasure.

That alone is enough to finish me off entirely, a series of unbridled moans leaving my lips as wave after wave of euphoria seers through my being.

He doesn’t stop, biting down hard on his lower lip, he continues to thrust manically inside of me, and for a few ecstasy filled moments, it’s almost all too much.

“Fuck, Lucy, I don’t think I can last much longer,” he groans. “The gun’s about to go off...”

“Then let it, Reb,” I moan in reply. “Please, I want you to.”

And that’s all it takes.

He cries out my name with sudden force, spasming and grunting as he comes, falling limply on top of me.

Afterwards, my wrists now freed, we lay together on his small mattress, basking in the afterglow.

Satisfied bodies covered in matching thin layers of perspiration as our hearts pound erratically in tandem.

Eric looks happy, peaceful, if a not a little dazed as he eyes me.

“Goddamn... that was amazing.”

“Fuck, yeah, it was,” I agree, only now noticing that my legs have all but have turned to jelly. “We’ll definitely be doing that again soon.”

He chuckles softly next to me as my heart continues to thump in my chest like a jack-hammer.

“I think I might be willing to oblige you,” he grins. “If you ask me nicely.”

“I didn’t hurt you at all, though, did I?” he asks, his voice slightly concerned.

I feel his hot, still somewhat ragged breathing against the back of my neck.

“No,” I shake my head, still somewhat lost in a haze of joyous delirium. “I loved it.” 

Slender arms coil around my body, pulling me closer toward him on the bed as the music continues to play softly from the other side of the room.

“Ich liebe dich, mein engel,” he tells me, his voice gentler now, far more tender than it had been.

Wrapped in the loving cocoon of his embrace, I smile in response, perfectly content in the knowledge that all is now right in the world.

Simply because I am here with him.

“I love you, too, Eric.”

Reznor’s powerfully gritty refrain provides us a beautifully dark lullaby as we lay there together, blissfully drifting off to sleep in sweet exhaustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Fmkja789R7Y
> 
> I’m sorry, but this made me laugh so hard I nearly coughed up a damn lung. 😂


	10. You Know What I Hate?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is set from Eric’s point of view, so if anyone feels like they may be triggered (pun very much intended) you may wanna skip this one.

Upon entering the Phobos base; I’m met with a bleak and harrowing scene.

The chaos has rendered the last few remaining humans disoriented and hostile, now attempting to shoot their former squad mate on sight.

Hoards of rabid, intergalactic demons join in on the action, blocking every conceivable escape route, snarling and hissing, throwing balls of fire directly in my path.

Luckily for me, there’s still plenty of weaponry lying around, more than enough to allow a marine of my caliber to make quick work of his opponents.

Soon I’m reducing both former squad mates and demonic space scum alike to little more than shrieking, steaming masses of fluid in my wake.

That’s when I’m made vaguely aware of my Mom’s voice calling me from the top of the stairs.

I hit the pause button.

“What is it?!”

Heavy footsteps bound down the stairs behind me.

Asked and answered.

“Hey, Vodka!”

I hit play, continuing the assault on the avalanche of demons now occupying my computer screen.

Dylan sighs as he reaches the foot of the stairs.

“Hey, Reb, what’s up? Playing some Doom, huh?”

“What gave me away?” I ask, voice dripping with sarcasm as I continue to bash the keyboard in front of me. 

“Don’t be a dick, dude. You asked me to come over, remember?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, man. I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“So, what?” he scoffs. “You think I don’t?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. Hold on a sec, let me just get that one scaly motherfucker over there in the corner...”

“Did you seriously drag my ass over here to watch you play Doom all night?”

I hit pause again.

“Because I do have better things to do, you know,” he adds, falling down into the Lay-Z boy recliner by the dresser.

“Don’t lie to me, Dylan. We both know that neither one of us has jack shit to do tonight.”

“I was surprised you even called. I would have thought you’d be hanging out with Lucy.”

“Nah, she got roped into a babysitting gig for one of her neighbors.”

Just say it.

Just fucking say it out loud.

“I’m actually thinking of breaking up with her.”

Dylan’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise as he lounges back in the recliner, his long, slender arms dangling down along either side.

“Fuck, seriously?” he asks, somewhat incredulously.

“Why the hell would you break up with her, man? She’s perfect.”

He uncharacteristically begins to stammer as I turn to look at him.

“I m-m-mean, you two seem p-per-perfect together.”

“Were you drinking before you came over, Vodka?” I ask, forcing a laugh.

”Get it together, dude.”

I’ve never heard him stutter like that before, not once in all the years I’ve known him. 

“Sorry, man,” he apologizes. “I’m sober as a judge, I don’t know what came over me.”

“So,” he clears his throat, loudly. “Why do you want to break up with her?”

“If your next question is; ‘Can I take a crack at her after you?’ my answer is a resounding fuck no.”

Dylan unleashes some fake laughter of his own, not realizing I already know damn well that he likes her.

Not realizing I’d recognize that barely legible scrawl he calls handwriting anywhere.

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately and I’ve decided it’s for the best,” I tell him, not sure which of the two of us I’m really trying to convince.

“With everything we’ve got planned, it just doesn’t make sense for me to be in any kind of serious relationship right now.”

“And it’s not fair to let her think we have some kind of future together when, you know, I might not have a future at all...”

“Might not?” he asks.

“Definitely will not,” I correct myself.

“Still, though, wouldn’t you like to have her around for the last few months you do have left on Earth?”

“Yes, of course I fucking would,” I sigh heavily, burying my face in my hands for a long, quiet moment before feeling in any way capable of continuing the thought.

“This always needed to happen eventually, though. I can’t let myself be selfish here. I have to just rip the band-aid off and detach myself now, while I still can.”

”Man, I don’t envy you,” Dylan grimaces. “I’ve never had to dump anyone before, but that shit does not look pleasant.”

”Oh, it’ll hurt like a motherfucker, I know, but I’ll just make things worse in the long run for the both of us if I keep putting it off.”

I’d be a fool to allow myself a second longer in her presence, a second where I’m sure to fall even more hopelessly, irrevocably in love with her than I was the second before.

Goddamn it! Stop thinking that kind of mushy shit, you sappy son of a bitch!

It’s all just fucking hormones anyway, that’s what “love” really comes down to, it’s nothing but a biological, chemical reaction to one another’s D.N.A. 

“So, you’re really sure about this?”

No, no, I’m not fucking sure, and the very thought of going through with it makes my soul itself feel as though it were run over by a fucking bus. 

“Yeah, I’m sure. I mean, I can’t really afford to get any more attached to her than I already have, not with NBK on the horizon.”

”You’re a better man than me, then, Reb. If I had what you two have, a real love like that, I’d hold onto it as tightly as I could, right up until the very end.”

”Yeah, to a dude probably, by the sound of it,” I laugh, walking over to the T.V. and firing it up along with the old V.C.R. 

“Is that an invitation?” Dylan asks, offering me a wink so awkwardly performed, it’s even funnier than he intends it to be.

“Wanna watch it again, Vodka?”

He nods his head, readjusting his position to a more comfortable one as he stretches out along the recliner. 

“We’ve only seen that movie, what, fifty seven times now? Why the fuck not make it to fifty eight? We might break some kind of record.”

The room is still dark when I open my eyes and a slow eternity seems to pass me by as I lay there, motionless, staring up at the ceiling.

The feeling greets me as it has the past few mornings, hitting me like a tone of bricks, crushing and immediate, rendering me hopelessly incapacitated, powerless under the unendurable weight of it.

Soon, the room grows bright and the alarm clock atop my bedside dresser begins to ring.

Tossing the covers back, I reluctantly rise from the comfort of my bed, dreading the day ahead beyond comprehension.

Detach yourself. Detach yourself. Detach yourself.

I blare the music as I drive, unsuccessfully attempting to drown out my thoughts, unwilling to be alone with them even on the short ride to school.

I’m just like the song, or so I tell myself. 

Forged from steel, iron will.

Forged from steel, iron will.

Forged from steel, iron will.

Walking down the hall towards the science lab, I’m unsure what to do with myself before my first class starts.

Dylan won’t be back from his suspension until tomorrow. He’d only been allowed to come over the night before under the guise of “collecting assignments,” and I’m still trying to avoid Lucy like the plague.

“Hey, where’s your girlfriend, fag?” a voice, that could only have come from the great Snot Evans himself, asks.

It takes a second or two for the sheer stupidity of the question to fully sink in before I can hazard a reply.

Usually, I’d ignore a comment like that.

Under normal circumstances, I’d walk away as though I hadn’t even heard him.

These however, are not normal circumstances and I am not myself.

Not by a long shot.

Eric’s riding shotgun now, with Reb sat firmly in the driver’s sear.

And I am nothing but a pot of scalding water, dangerously close to boiling over the edge.

“You do realize how fucking retarded you sound right now, don’t you, dude?”

Scott stares as me, dumbfounded for a moment.

Logically, I know I should shut the fuck up and quit while I’m ahead, but my mouth has other ideas.

“I’d ask if you know what the word ‘fag’ even means, but you look in the mirror every day, so, I’m assuming that you do.”

Did I really just fucking say that?

A burst of hysterical laughter falls unbidden from my lips.

Two of Scott’s friends exchange looks behind his back, clearly equally surprised by my sudden candor.

“He’s fucking crazy, man,” one of them comments.

Scott’s nostrils flare as he steps forward, a look on his face that makes his intent to beat my ass into next century abundantly clear.

Oh, fuck.

Another step and he’s right in front of me.

Oh, double fuck.

I fully expect him to knock me unconscious there and then, to throw me to the ground before launching into a vicious psychical assault.

He doesn’t. Instead, he surprises me by going for a much lower blow.

“Why don’t you ask Lucy if she ever thought I was a fag while I was banging her brains out?”

The motherfucker actually has the nerve to smirk at me as he says it.

In an instant, everything around me turns a fuzzy, subtle shade of red and an overwhelming urge suddenly dominates me.

Punch this dickhead in his stupid face as hard as you can and worry about the consequences later.

“She never let you touch her, you lying son of a bitch!”

“Oh, believe me, I hit that shit more times than I count count,” the well-groomed ape begins to laugh.

“That little girlfriend of yours is the worst lay I ever had.”

Again, I tell myself to quit while I still have full use of all my limbs, but I seem unable to stop myself.

I’m floating above my body now, watching the events unfold as a disembodied bystander.

“Gee, you don’t say! Hey, do you think that’s what turned you onto dudes?”

Scott’s fist clenches around the material of my shirt, pulling me forward before my back collides with the wall of lockers behind me.

I can practically smell what the fucker had for breakfast as he pins me there, his hand pressing my body up against the cool metal at my back.

He’s got a good bit of height on me and has a much bigger build, well-muscled and athletic from endless hours spent on the football field.

Standing so close to him, it’s not the anticipated feeling of fear that takes over, but one of sudden inadequacy.

He’s at least four inches taller and has the kind of muscle tone I could probably only ever dream of.

Unless maybe I did end up joining the Marines...

Does Lucy find me as attractive as him?

She likes my personality, sure, but does she find me as psychically attractive as him?

I’m pulled from my train of thought by Scott shouting in my face like the world’s dumbest drill-sergeant.

“Someone’s got a big pair of balls on them today, don’t they?!”

I try not to laugh again, I really do, but it slips out anyway.

“Thanks, man, again, a little gay of you to bring my balls into the equation at all, but hey, I’ll take it as a compliment!”

He stares at me like I’m an enigma he can’t quite seem to solve, like I’m a book with a recommended reading level above the fifth grade.

Then, he’s angry again.

“Looks like we’re gonna have to teach Lucy’s new pet here some manners!”

An idiot in a white cap joins him at either side, all three smiling in a way that heavily suggests this won’t end well for me.

“Where are those big balls now, huh?”

Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it.

“They’re right down here in my boxers, next to my giant dick.”

It occurs to me that I might as well go big or go home, knowing full well I’m about to get my ass beat either way.

“Why don’t you give the two of them a good long suck for me, Evans?”

“You’ve got a fucking death wish, don’t you, Harris?” he laughs, but there’s no humor in it whatsoever.

“Oh, Scotty boy,” I smile, readying myself for the fist I’m certain is about to come crashing into my face. “You’ve got no fucking idea...”

“There you are, Scott! Thank God!”

His expression of fury changes to one of mild panic as his fingers loosen from the fabric of my shirt.

Mr. Johnson, the football coach, is now stood to the left of us, frowning deeply, a hand pressed up against his forehead.

He observes what’s happening, I’m sure of it, his eyes briefly meeting mine before he turns to Scott.

“I just got a phone call from Owens’ Mom. The kid was screwing around on a damn go-kart last night and ended up breaking his arm in three places!”

Scott no longer seems at all concerned with me, neither does Mr. Johnson for that matter.

I might as well be just another locker, as opposed to the human being he just saw his golden boy roughing up.

“What the hell are we gonna do, coach?” Scott whines, reminding me of a prepubescent sulky child as he does.

“We need Owens tomorrow night!”

“We need to get everyone together and go over our strategy again. We can always use Roberts or even Smith if we have to!”

Somewhat miraculously, neither of them even gives me a second glance before they take off down the hall together.

This can’t be the end of it, surely, but I seem to have bought myself some time.

I’d almost have preferred to get it out of the way now, though, instead of having to watch my back.

One of Scott’s friends knocks the cap from my head as they walk past, laughing as they follow the other two down the hall.

You know what I hate?

Dumb, entitled, over-privileged cocksuckers like that who think they fucking run the place!

You know what I hate?

Being surrounded by idiots, who from birth, have had silver spoons wedged in their mouths to accompany the giant sticks up their asses!

You know what I hate?

In this very moment, at least?

Everyone and everything around me, with the fiery, burning intensity of a thousand red hot suns.

I successfully manage to avoid Lucy for most of the school day, but she catches up with me by my locker before lunch ends.

“Hey, asshole,” she leans up against the wall of lockers, greeting me with a smile so lovely it instantly leaves me feeling like shit.

“You been avoiding me or something? I’ve barely seen you all day.”

“No,” I shake my head, still staring straight ahead into my locker, too afraid that if I turn to look at her my resolve will crumble.

“I’m not avoiding you.”

Forged from steel, iron will.

Detach yourself. Detach yourself. Detach yourself.

“Okay,” she laughs, somewhat awkwardly, attempting to link her arm mine.

I take my arm away, grimacing ever so slightly at her responding expression as I do so.

She looks like a wounded puppy-dog, and I, yet again, feel like the world’s biggest pile of shit.

“Is everything okay, Eric?”

“Everything’s fine,” I insist, attempting to walk past. “I’m fine.”

She doesn’t allow it, stepping in front of me, blocking my path.

“I thought we weren’t going to pull that ‘I’m fine’ shit with each other,” she says, doing the little air quote gestures with her fingers.

“Remember what you said about always telling you how I felt, the good, the bad and the ugly? Well, that works both ways.”

“I don’t have time for this bullshit, Lucy!” I snap, raising my voice more loudly than I had intended to. 

Her pale blue eyes widen as she looks at me, surprised. Then, for one horrible moment, she looks as though she might begin to cry.

My first instinct is to apologize profusely, to grab her and hold her in my arms and tell her over and over and over again just how incredible she is, just how much and how deeply I love her.

But, I don’t, because I know that I can’t.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asks, her voice little more than a whisper now.

Make her angry, Harrris.

Make her fucking hate you.

Make her hate you enough that you can’t turn back, no matter how much you may want to later down the road.

“Scott told me the two of you used to have sex,” I tell her, deliberately making my voice as cold as is physically possible.

She frowns at me, confused.

“Then he’s lying, Eric, I already told you that you were my first.”

I’m so fucking sorry, Lucy.

I’m doing this for your own good. 

You deserve so much better.

Please forgive me.

Or at least, please don’t hate me forever. 

I can’t even look her directly in the eye as I ask the question I know will change her opinion of me, entirely and possibly irreparably. 

“Do you really expect me to believe that shit?”

She looks at me, stunned, as though I’d just slapped her, and if the look on her face is any indication, a slap would have hurt less.

“Eric, I wouldn’t... I don’t...”

Detach yourself. Detach yourself. Detach yourself.

“Yeah, whatever, Lucy. Look, I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you around, okay?”

I make the mistake of looking at her again before I turn around and walk away.

Her expression, a heartbreaking mix of pain and confusion, burns itself into my mind, taking up permanent residency there.

And for the rest of the day and most of the following night, I think of nothing else.

The rain falls hard against the windscreen as I drive down one darkened street after another, stereo blaring once again.

This time it’s playing the Marilyn Manson CD she left in my car that day we went up into the mountains.

My mind flashes back to what could very well be considered one of the best days of my life.

I think of the two of us teasing one another relentlessly as we set up camp.

The way we’d kissed and laughed and held one another as we watched the fireworks erupt above our heads.

How we’d snuck into Blackjack in the middle of the night, where we’d dined on pepperoni pizza and had sex with each other for the very first time.

Both of our first times.

Why the fuck did I have to say that to her?

I never imagined a day would come when a song called ‘Cake And Sodomy’ would bring tears to my eyes, but inexplicably, find myself tearing up as soon as it comes on.

You know what I hate?

Myself, for being such a Goddamn idiot!

Soon, I find myself parked across the street from her house, staring up at her bedroom window.

She’s definitely asleep by now, but I’m certain a few light raps on the window would wake her.

If she forgives me, if she lets me in...

Hell, even if she just talks to me...

I’ll tell her everything.

All of it.

No more bullshit, just like she said.

I’ll tell her every last detail, the good, the bad and the ugly.

I’ll lay my soul bare completely.

And then, if she still wants me after that, once she hears me out, once she knows just who I really am and what I’m truly capable of, well, we’ll just have to go from there...

I manage to pull myself up onto the wall that runs alongside her house easily enough, but the roof tiles are made slippy from the rain.

I almost lose my footing on them twice, narrowly avoiding tumbling down into the garden below.

Taking a deep breath, I nervously begin to lightly tap a knuckle against the glass.

No answer.

I do it again a couple of more times, then there’s movement inside.

The curtains part suddenly and her beautiful, sleepy face peeks out from between them.

My heart swells in my chest as our eyes meet and I know with an iron-clad certainty that I love this person, intensely, down to the very marrow of my bones.

And that I was such a fool.

She stares at me, blinking slowly for a second or two as she begins to process the situation.

Then, unceremoniously raises a middle finger at me before pulling the curtains closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is random as fuck, but does anyone know if it’s Eric or Dylan that’s saying “You like that, man, you like that?!” at the end of Radioactive Clothing, while they’re throwing all those clothes down in the basement? 
> 
> It sounds like Eric to me, but I’ve never been able to tell for sure, and for some sad reason, actually care. 🙄😂


	11. These Violent Delights

It’s just after 4:00 a.m.

Cigarette in hand, I sit on the roof of my house, staring up at the clear night sky above, positively consumed with thoughts of him, and only him.

I unfold the note in my hand for what feels like the hundredth time, using my lighter to illuminate the words in front of me so I can read them yet again.

It starts with a quote that had touched me deeply when I first read it, even if it was stolen from a movie we’d watched together.

‘ _I lie on my bed and go over every day, every minute of our happiness. I take it all as it comes, and I live that day again. That way, when I get to our first kiss, they’re not just memories. I feel that joy again.’_

_I know I fucked up, Lucy. Big time. Please just put me out of my misery and call me!_

_P.S. These suckers weren’t cheap either!_

_Love, Eric,_ _aka; that asshole who worships the ground you walk on._

_X_

Five large sunflowers had accompanied it, an odd, yet beautiful choice, that left me once again wondering about the mysterious black rose before it.

Reading his note again it becomes glaringly apparently that I’ve all but memorized it now.

Realizing this, I hastily fold it back up, fruitlessly trying to push the contents from my mind. 

I finish my cigarette, frustration mounting as his words repeat themselves endlessly in my head, refusing to grant even a moment’s respite. 

Unable to cope with the hellish torment that is consciousness anymore, I fall into bed, slipping into a deep and dreamless sleep.

“You’re going to school today, young lady! And I don’t care if I have to hog-tie you to the roof of the car to get you there!”

“No, Dad,” I groan in protest, pulling the blankets back up over my head, nestling down deep beneath the covers.

“I’m sick.”

I hear my father omit a heavy sigh.

“You can’t make me go if I feel sick.”

“Lucy, I’m losing my pa-.”

“Go away or I’ll report you to social services.”

The blanket, the only thin layer of protection that exists between myself and the rest of the world, is torn from the bed in one fell swoop.

“You better get out of this bed right now or I swear to God, I’ll give social services a reason to show up!”

“I’m recording this entire conversation, you know. I have you threatening me on tape. Good luck in court, old man.” 

“Lucy, that’s enough! You haven’t been to school all week and you can’t keep saying you’re sick when there’s not a damn thing wrong with you!”

I close my eyes, fervently hoping that by some miraculous stroke of luck, he decides to fuck off and leave me alone.

“Dad, please, I feel like I’m dying. I can’t.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic!”

Please go away.

I love you, but just go the fuck away.

I don’t reply and the room goes quiet.

When I open my eyes again, I see him in the mirror opposite my bed, staring down at me with a clear expression of concern.

I suddenly feel guilty.

I want to reassure him, to tell him that I’m fine, that he’s a wonderful Dad and he has nothing to worry about.

However, I seem to lack the strength to even rise from my position on the bed.

And I feel utterly unable to comfort myself, let alone anyone else.

“Eric called again a couple of times after you went to bed last night.”

His name is like a dagger to the chest, like being plunged unexpectedly into freezing water, so cold you could swear you felt your veins beginning to turn to ice.

“Say what you want about the kid, but you can’t argue that he’s persistent!”

“He’s something alright,” I murmur unintelligibly into the pillow.

“Your Mom said she’s going to rip the telephone chord from the wall if he calls one more time,” he chuckles, taking a seat on the end of the bed.

“I wouldn’t put it past her,” I admit, barely managing, but somehow finding the energy to prop myself up on my elbows.

He proceeds to bury the dagger a little deeper, twisting it around a little, scraping and cutting at the already raw and aching flesh beneath.

“He’s a good kid and he seems to think the world of you, Lucy.”

Please shut up.

“I know the two of you had some sort of argument, but-.”

“You don’t know shit, Dad.”

I fall back down, flat against the mattress, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

I expect him to start yelling, to tell me that I need to respect him, that I need to behave myself, all that usual bullshit, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he throws the blanket back down onto the bed and slowly begins to nod.

“Okay, then tell me about it.”

“Tell you about what?”

“Everything that’s going on with you, but let’s start with why you don’t want to go to school.”

“Because it fucking sucks,” I tell him, pulling the blanket back over myself.

“So does life,” he replies, simply. “Most of the time anyway.”

This coming from my Dad, the eternal optimist, makes it a somewhat shocking statement.

The fact that no attempt was made at reprimanding me for swearing is also surprising.

Concern for him is enough to pull me through the thick fog of self-pity.

“Are you okay, Dad?”

“Not really,” he admits with a sad shake of his head.

“Your Mom and I are thinking of taking a break.”

What was already a miserable morning has now turned into a complete fucking nightmare.

“What do you mean? Like a divorce?”

“It’s a possibility, yes.”

“Jesus, Dad, why?”

”Can’t you two just suck it up and pretend to be happy like everyone else does?”

He laughs a little at that.

As he continues, he looks as though he’s struggling to get the words out, words of a speech he’s no doubt rehearsed in his head for years.

“Things haven’t been working in our marriage for a long time. It doesn’t mean we don’t love you and your sister, because we do, very much.”

I hear what he’s saying, of course, processing it however is a different matter entirely.

“There’s talk down at the station of me receiving a promotion,” he informs me.

“It’d mean being transferred to New York.”

“Sarah and your Mom will be staying here in Littleton, but I want you to come with me, Lucy.”

”You can finish up high school out there and there’s this great art program that-.”

“I’m sure as shit not moving to New York, Dad!” I reply, suddenly feeling even worse at having unintentionally used one of Eric’s choice phrases.

He frowns deeply, disapproval at my colorful use of language apparent on his face as he stares at me from the foot of the bed.

“You never used to speak to me like that, Lucy,” he says sadly, provoking another pang of guilt.

“We used to be so close when you were younger, but these days you don’t seem to have any time for me at all.”

He stares down at the hardwood floor beneath his feet, looking defeated.

My arms are wrapped around him before I’m consciously aware of getting up.

“We’re still close, Dad.”

He looks at me, still frowning.

“Then tell me what’s going on with you, these days, Lucy, please.”

“Why have you barely left your room all week and why are you refusing to go to school?”

“I just don’t want to be there,” I shrug, unwilling to elaborate any further on the matter.

“Will you please just go today, Lucy?”

“For me.”

I sigh heavily, resigning myself to the unfortunate fact that there’s no point in postponing this any longer.

“That’s a tall order, old man, but I think I can manage it, just for you.”

“That a girl,” he grins, ruffling my hair, somehow managing to bring a small smile to a face that hasn’t worn one for days.

“You get dressed and I’ll meet you downstairs in fifteen, alright?”

“Alright.”

He walks out of the room, pauses in the hallway, then reappears.

“I’m serious about New York, Lucy.”

“We could use a fresh start and I think we might like life in the big city. You always talked about going to art school and they’ve got one of the best in the country out there.”

“I’ll definitely think about it, Dad.”

Frank Sinatra dominates the radio as my father drives, and a pit of dread forms in my stomach as soon as the building is made visible in the distance.

The halls are bustling with students as I make my way towards Art, my first class of the day.

Turning a corner, I see Dylan coming out of a classroom up ahead, towering over the two guys walking in by him.

I find myself automatically looking around for Eric, mentally scolding myself for doing so.

Then, Dylan is in front of me, and suddenly I feel painfully awkward.

“Hey, Lucy, how’re you feeling?”

“Hi, Dylan. I’m good,” I tell him, a little confused. “Why do you ask?”

He starts to smile.

“Because you’ve been out sick all week, haven’t you?”

“Oh, yeah,” I lie, offering up a poor attempt at a cough as though it might somehow make me more credible.

“I’m much better now, thanks.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“You know, Eric’s been trying to get in touch with you all week,” he says, cutting immediately to the chase.

“Tell him my schedule is fully booked, Dylan. Let him know I’m too busy fucking Scott and lying about it to talk to him.”

“I’m not his damn secretary, Lucy.”

I manage a small laugh.

“You are his messenger boy, though, apparently.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Eric just wanted me to tell you-.”

“If he has something to say to me, he can tell me himself.”

“How can he when you won’t even talk to him?”

I shrug my shoulders, no doubt wearing the expression of a petulant child.

“Sorry, Dylan, it was nice seeing you, but I really have to get to class. Maybe we can talk later.”

I’m out of there like a bat out of hell.

Sat in Algebra, my third class of the day, I’m doodling on the corner of my notebook when there’s a knock on the door.

I glance up just as it opens.

Eric is standing there, eyes briefly scanning the classroom before he addresses the teacher.

“Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Jenkins, but I was told to come get Lucy Peters, they want her in the office.”

The teacher gestures with a nod of his head for me to follow Eric as a chorus of “ooh’s” fill the classroom.

I eye him skeptically, shoving my books into my bag and rising from the chair.

“Someone’s in trouble,” my former friend Katie laughs as I approach her desk, swinging back on the hind legs of her chair.

I remember her standing there, watching silently as Laura handed my ass to me on the bathroom floor.

Walking past, my fingers seem to move of their own accord, gripping the back of her chair and pulling it downward.

I hear her hit the ground behind me with a thud, then the sound of laughter.

“Oww! What the hell?!”

Mr Jenkins apparently now too busy examining his fingernails, doesn’t offer either of us a second glance. 

I refuse to look at Eric as I walk past him out into the hall, but can’t help noticing him grinning at me from the corner of my eye.

My heart rate increases ten-fold as I watch him close the door shut gently behind us.

“Hi,” he smiles weakly. “How’ve you been?”

He actually looks a little nervous.

“I take it I’m not actually wanted, then?”

“Just by me.”

I roll my eyes, feigning annoyance.

Silently hating myself for wanting little more in this moment than to throw my arms around his shoulders and bury my face in his chest.

”You shouldn’t have done that, Eric.”

”You hate Algebra,” he reasons.

”Besides, how the fuck else was I supposed to get you to talk to me?”

Feeling my will-power beginning to dissolve already, I decide to get as far away from the situation as possible. 

“I’m sorry, Eric, but I don’t have time for this shit,” I tell him, repeating his own words back to him.

“Lucy,” he frowns. “I-.”

“Whatever you’re about to say, I don’t care. If they don’t want me in the office, I’m going for a smoke.”

I turn on my heels, beginning to walk quickly down the length of the hallway.

“Hold up!” he calls after me. “I’ll come with you!

Please don’t.

I don’t want to crumble.

I can’t afford to.

”What part of that statement made it sound like you were invited?”

He’s soon caught up with me, fingers grazing my own as he attempts to take my hand.

I pull mine away, reacting as though his were on fire.

“Go away, Eric.”

His arm drops limply to his side as he continues to follow me along the corridor.

“Will you please just talk to me, for literally two fucking seconds?”

I don’t acknowledge the question with a reply, so he continues.

“Did you get my flowers?”

He’s met with silence.

“I’m sorry about what I said, Lucy. I’m a total idiot.”

”Even if it what numb-nuts said was true, it wouldn’t matter to me in the slightest, but I know you would never-.”

A small group of Sophomores, gathered in front of their lockers are now observing the situation with keen interest.

“Okay, I’ll talk to you, alright? But we’re not doing it here! Come on!”

Soon we find ourselves once again at the smoker’s pit.

“You really fucking hurt me when you said that shit, Eric. I’ve never lied to you or even given you a reason to think I would.”

“I know,” he nods his head, vigorously.

“You’re absolutely right.”

“It’s not an excuse, I know, but Scott and his team of douchebags cornered me in the hall right before you showed up that day.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but how does that justify what you said to me?”

“It doesn’t, that’s not what I’m saying,” he runs a hand along the back of his neck, as if trying to release built up tension there.

“I have no excuse, I knew damn well that what he was saying wasn’t true. I guess I just got mad about the fact that you could have been with someone else before me.”

“Especially an unworthy asshole like him who could never begin to understand let alone appreciate someone like you.”

The more he talks, the more I feel myself beginning to come around, but my ego is wounded beyond belief and my pride will not permit instantaneous forgiveness.

The urge to throw my arms around him, however, is now stronger than ever.

He pulls out a box of cigarettes from his pocket and slides two out.

“Don’t bother,” I tell him, fishing my own box out from the pocket of my jeans.

“I have my own.”

“Decided to finally stop being such a bum, huh?” he asks, placing a cigarette between his lips.

The smile he offers is met with a stony faced glare in response.

He rolls his eyes at me.

Cigarettes are lit in unison.

Neither of us says anything for several painfully long seconds and the air around us is almost too heavy to endure.

“Are you still my girlfriend, Lucy?” he asks softly, eyes not quite meeting my own.

“I’d already assumed we were broken up after the way we left things.”

His eyes dart up, face aghast.

“We never officially broke up, though, did we?”

“Well, no, not really, but maybe it’s for the best that we do.”

“Oh, fuck that shit!” he snaps.

“Come on, Lucy, I said I was sorry!”

“Is one dumb comment really worth dumping my ass over?!”

I take a deep drag, allowing the smoke to enter what feels like the now barren cavity of my chest.

“Maybe it’s not, but it’s not going to matter soon anyway.”

“And why the fuck is that exactly, might I ask?”

“Because we’re moving to New York.”

He looks at me like I just punched him in the stomach, as though the breath has been completely knocked out of him.

“Moving to New York,” he repeats the words slowly, as though they’re somehow foreign to him.

“What are you talking about?” he demands, his demeanor visibly beginning to darken.

“When the fuck are you going and why the hell is this the first I’m hearing of this?!”

“I don’t know yet, but my Dad might be getting transferred soon and he wants me to go with him, he said I could finish school up out there.”

“And you’re actually going to go?” he scoffs, shaking his head, incredulously.

“You’re going to up sticks and leave me? Just like that? After everything? See you, Eric! Thanks for the memories! Have a nice fucking life! Is that it?!”

“I’m not sure what I want to do yet,” I admit, exhaling a cloud of smoke upward.

I extinguish the now finished cigarette beneath my heel.

“I don’t have any real reason to stay here anyway.”

Eric stares at me, face crestfallen, and it takes all of my resolve not to cave.

He attempts to take my hands in his again, this time I let him.

Looking at me, almost pleadingly, he brings both hands up to his mouth, gently planting a small kiss atop each of them in turn.

“You have me, Lucy,” he says, voice thick with thinly-veiled emotion.

“I’m your goddamn reason and you’re my fucking world. Please don’t go. I honestly don’t think I could take it if you did.”

I need time away from the situation before even considering the possibility of resuming our relationship.

I know this, but then he’s holding me and all reason and logic evaporates completely.

His arms wrap around me, pulling me towards him and one thought is prevalent above all others.

Why do you feel so inevitable to me? 

His tongue parts my lips, entering my mouth as eager hands find and grip my waist.

I feel myself begin to melt into the embrace, only existing in the present moment, pride and ego currently forgotten remnants of the past.

I kiss him back, despite myself, permitting the smell and taste and feel of him to comfort me to levels beyond all measure.

His mouth the magical elixir.

His touch the only cure for what ails me.

Even though I know I shouldn’t be giving him false hope or promising anything I’m not certain of, it seems impossible to stop myself once we’ve begun.

And all I want in the world right now is to be with him, whatever the fuck the future may hold.

He leads me by the hand to his car and we take off, heading down the street away from the school, off towards God only knows where.

I don’t ask, neither do I care.

Soon, the car is hastily pulled over, the two of us a mess of hands and lips and urgency as we tumble into the backseat.

He seems, as always, to possess dual sexual personas; alternating constantly between tender and romantic and downright domineering.

One moment his lips are planting a loving trail of kisses down my neck, the next his fingers are wrapped around it.

“I’m the only one who deserves you,” he tells me, fingers still coiled around my throat.

“And you’re nobody else’s but mine.”

“Say it.”

It starts to rain hard, pouring down heavily and out of nowhere.

“I can’t promise-.”

He cuts me off, pressing his lips hard against mine, his face looking mildly distressed as he pulls them away again.

“Just say it anyway, Lucy. Please.”

I’m too lost in my own pleasure to argue, and besides, it’s the truth.

“I’m yours, Eric, nobody else’s.”

He begins to chant my name, muttering it over and over again, like some kind of sacred prayer.

The joy I feel at hearing it provides a much needed ego boost, aiding in both getting me off and driving me beyond all reasonable measures of sanity.

Beyond the steamed up windows of Eric’s Honda Prelude, I hear wind whistling loudly through the trees, as though Mother Nature herself is providing a dramatic soundtrack to our encounter.

Our eyes lock and I am overwhelmed entirely by a whirlpool of raw emotion.

I want to tell him something I’m sure he already knows, overcome with a desire to say those three words over and over and over again. 

They come to my lips countless times, but I refuse to let myself utter them once. 

Pleasure builds and builds and builds in slow, delicious waves atop the backseat, while outside the wind continues to howl.

His mouth finds that weak spot near the hollow of my neck and soon I find myself unraveling completely.

Loudly groaning, hips thrusting erratically, eyes fluttering closed, Eric informs me that he’s going to finish soon.

A familiar stream of intoxicatingly pretty sounds proceeds to fall from his lips as rain continues to pelt against all sides of a now shaking car.

He finishes, just as the sky begins to thunder above us, then he’s slumped against the backseat of the car next to me, still panting heavily as he pulls up the zipper of his jeans.

The relentless downpour continues to beat against the glass of the fogged up windows, but the interior of the car has heated up considerably.

“Fuck, I needed that,” Eric sighs happily, reaching down to retrieve his shirt from the floor.

“And you were incredible as always,” he grins, reaching over, clamping a slightly sweaty hand down on my bare shoulder.

I smile back, attempting to hide the fact that inwardly I’m now incredibly conflicted.

Why did I jump so carelessly back into this, without so much as a second thought?

The idea of being hurt again is more than I can bare and as fun and cathartic as this was, I now regret letting my libido cloud my judgment.

I should have allowed myself the opportunity to think things through.

A small wave of guilt washes over me at the sudden realization that I did this to make myself feel better. That I used him as some sort of sexual comfort blanket.

“You do know this doesn’t mean we’re back together, right?”

I place another cigarette between my lips, lighting it as we lay satiated, half dressed next to each other in the back of his car.

“Whatever you say, sugar-tits.”

“I told you how I felt about that nickname, cut it out with the sugar-tits crap.”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, stealing the cigarette from my mouth, bringing it up toward his own.

He takes a few quick drags, then passes it back to me.

“My sincerest and humblest of apologies, Lucy goosey.”

The rain and wind begin to die off, the brief yet intense storm passing as quickly and abruptly as it came, resuming only in the form of a light drizzle.

Eric and I return to school for our final few classes, not seeing each other again for the rest of the school day.

I return home in a marginally better mood than I’ve been in all week.

My Mom takes notice and is on me for a favor within seconds of me putting my bag down and taking off my coat.

“Lucy, you love me, right?”

“What do you want, Mom?” I ask, resisting the urge to walk straight past her, up the stairs to my room.

“Joy called earlier.”

“Joy, who?” I ask. “Scott’s Mom?”

“The very one,” she nods.

“Scott told her how great you used to be at helping him with his French homework.”

Where the fuck is she going with this?

What’s the end game?

“He’s started to fail the class again and she was hoping you might be willing to tutor him once or twice a week.”

That makes me laugh, hard, genuinely and probably for the first time all week.

“I’m sorry, Mom, but that’s just not happening.”

“Lucy, please, Joy is a good friend and it’d really mean a lot to me.”

“She’s one of the only people I can talk to about all this awful business with your father and I...” she turns her head away, her voice beginning to trail off.

I can tell she’s trying to manipulate me into doing what she wants.

To a small extent; it works.

“Look, I’ll think about it, alright!”

She looks back at me, smiling widely.

Far too happy for someone who was supposedly about to start crying.

Hours later, I’m babysitting at a house down the street from my own when there’s a knock at the front door.

I place the toddler I’m attempting to keep entertained down into her play-pen, telling the two older kids to wait for me in the living room.

Out in the hall, peering through the fish eyed lens of the peep-hole, I’m more than a little surprised to be met with Eric’s blurry visage.

“Yeah?” I call out from my side of the door.

“Hi, there,” he calls back, lips curled up into a smile. “I was just wondering if Lucy is allowed to come out and play.”

He soon joins us in the living room.

“You guys, this is Eric. He’s my... he’s my friend.”

“Is he your boyfriend?” the six-year old asks, grinning over at us with a gap-toothed smile.

“Why, yes,” he informs her, smiling back, politely. “Yes, I am.”

I’m about to interject when Eric gasps, bringing a hand up to his chest, pointing to the plastic tiara atop the little girl’s head.

“And you must be a princess!”

She starts to giggle, watching delightedly as he proceeds to bow down in front of her.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, your highness.”

Eric informs me that my sister told him where I was in exchange for a bag of oregano he’d somehow managed to convince her was weed.

Again, I remind both him and myself that distance would probably be the best thing for us both right now.

I end up allowing him to stay, though, reasoning that he might as well, just because he’s already here, unwilling to admit the fact that I really don’t want him to go.

He offers to help me while I make dinner, chopping vegetables and managing to keep the kids occupied while I cook.

Facing the stove, my back to them, I can’t help but laugh as Eric launches into his third reading of ‘The Cat In The Hat’ in a row.

Yet it’s just as enthusiastic a reading as the first as he once again launches into the opening lines, three wide-eyed, smiling children sat cross-legged in front of him.

He even willingly spoon feeds the toddler, surprising me by seeming to take great amusement in numerous rounds of the airplane game with her.

After that, she refuses to settle for me, throwing a tantrum and insisting that Eric be the one to pick her up.

He looks slightly skeptical as his eyes dart back and fourth between the little girl and I.

“Uh, Lucy, I’m not really sure...”

“Just pick her up, Eric, you’ll be fine,” I laugh.

“You’re not going to break her.”

Eric bends down and scoops her up in his arms, holding her at eye level.

“Hello there, tiny person,” he smiles.

“I am holding her right, aren’t I, Lucy? I’ve never rea-.”

She smiles back at Eric, then slaps him on the nose.

“Ow!” he whines. “That wasn’t very nice.”

He pretends to start crying and the little girl immediately wraps her arms around his neck, cuddling him.

“I’m sorry,” she says, muttering the words into the material of his Rammstein shirt.

“Oh, that’s okay, princess,” he laughs. “We’re still friends.”

Slapping aside, she seems to have taking quite a shine to him, insisting that he be the one to tuck her in.

The two of us head upstairs with Eric carrying her. I expect her to start fussing a little, after he lays her down, however, the little girl is snoring almost instantaneously.

Soon, Eric and I are alone again, the two older kids sleeping soundly, having already been tucked into their own beds.

We decide we’re not going to talk about our relationship tonight, neither one of us finding the location particularly appropriate.

His arm finds its way around me as we lay on the couch together, watching T.V. in the dimly lit living room of a virtual stranger’s house.

“You were so good with them tonight, Eric. I was very impressed.”

“What can I say?” he shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m an impressive kinda guy.”

“I think you’re going to make a really good Dad some day.”

He holds a hand up in front of him, crossing his middle and index fingers.

“Maybe nine months from now, if we’re lucky.”

My eyes widen, mouth involuntarily falling open in horror at the mere suggestion of that grim possibility.

He laughs, throwing his head back, slapping a hand up and down on one jean-clad knee.

“I highly doubt I’ll ever have kids, Lucy.”

“Why not?”

“I just don’t think it’s in the cards for me.”

Eric bites down on his lower lip as though trying to suppress the slow grin now spreading across his face.

“I can’t say I’d be entirely opposed to the idea of you calling me ‘Daddy,’ though.”

“You wouldn’t, huh?” I grin.

“God, no. I’d even be willing to administer the occasional spanking or two when needs be.”

“What ever happened to you wanting to be called balls of steel Harris?” 

“Oh, I still do,” he insists.

“But I can’t imagine that would roll off the tongue quite as nicely during sex.”

“No, probably not,” I agree, laughing as I allow myself to rest my head on his shoulder.

Absentmindedly channel surfing, I soon come across something appealing.

“Hey, ‘Romeo and Juliet’ is on,” I muse.

“I love this movie. I must have made my sister take me to see it about ten times when it first came out.”

“Is that so?” he asks, tickling me slightly as as he murmurs the words against my neck.

“Poor Sarah. I can just imagine it, I bet you were a total pain in the ass.”

“Oh, shut up, Eric, I was not. God, why do I ever tell you anything?”

He starts to laugh, making me realize just how much I’ve missed the absence of that sound, however temporarily.

“Maybe because you love me.”

“Fuck you, Harris.”

He’s right, of course, but still, fuck him all the same for pointing it out.

”Fuck you right back, Peters.” 

“I bet your sister is tripping balls on that oregano I gave her right about now.”

“And I bet she’s going to greet you with a swift kick to the nuts the next time she sees you.”

”I’d like to see her try,” he scoffs.

”It wouldn’t matter anyway. You know what my nickname is.” 

“Daddy?” 

“Fuck, Lucy,” he groans. “Why?”

“You meant balls of steel Harris, didn’t you?” 

“Forget that shit! We’re going with the first one!” 

About halfway through the movie Eric clears his throat and turns to me.

“Do you have a favorite line from ‘Romeo and Juliet?” 

My eyes remain fixed on the screen of the small T.V. screen in the corner of the room.

“Give me my Romeo and when he shall die, take him and cut him in little stars.”

”And he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night, and pay no worship to the garish sun.”

“Oh, yes,” he closes his eyes, nodding his  
head. “That’s some deep shit right there.”

I erupt into sudden laughter.

His eyes flicker open, locking with my own.

He smiles in a way that makes my heart feel as though it weighs a thousand pounds, a stark contrast to the rest of me, now feather light.

Almost like I’m floating.

“Am I your Romeo, Lucy?”

“No, I think you’re more like the Sid to my Nancy.”

“Hey, that’s not a very flattering comparison,” he chuckles.

“It wasn’t meant to be.”

He looks down at me, smiling, as we lay side by side on the couch.

“Do you think you can forgive me for what I said the other day?”

Part of me wishes he hadn’t even mentioned it again.

“Only if you can forgive me for today.”

“Forgive you,” he furrows his brow in confusion.

“For what, Lucy? For being way more awesome and understanding than I deserve or for fucking me in the backseat of my car?”

I’m unable to resist the urge to smile.

“Because I appreciated the hell out of both of those things, believe me!”

I can’t believe how effortless it is with him.

It’s almost frightening how easy it would be to slide straight back into this, reservations be damned.

“I’m not ready for us to get back together just yet. I need time to think about everything.”

I’ve already filled him on the unfortunate situation with my parents.

“I should have made that clear before I-.”

“Fucked me?” he interrupts.

“Used me for sex like I was some kind of cheap whore?”

“Yeah, Lucy, that would have been the decent thing to do, alright. Now I just feel all dirty and used.”

He’s laying behind me, body pressed directly up against my own, and as we start to laugh, our bodies shaking in such close proximity elicits an immediate effect.

The tip of his tongue darts out, barely grazing his lower lip as he continues to stare down at me, a look of familiar intensity in his eyes.

“I want you again already,” he says, voice low and throaty, far more sensuous than he seems to realize.

All the self restraint I possess is called upon and the second time around I somehow manage to stop myself.

Even though every fiber of my body, heart and soul is crying out to me, telling me to go with the flow, my mind is issuing me a different set of instructions entirely.

“Don’t get me wrong, Eric, earlier was fun, but I think we got a little carried away. I still need time to think about everything.”

He looks disappointed but nods his head regardless.

“Alright, I understand what you’re saying. You take all the time that you need, Lucy.”

”Just please don’t cut me out of your life completely, okay?”

“I won’t, Eric,” I assure him.

“I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.”

A soft smile touches his lips, a simple gesture, but enough to provoke an effect in me that is almost annihilating.

Nobody else’s.

“Do you promise?” he asks.

Another quick lick of the lips.

“I do.”

“No matter what?”

“No matter what.”

He swallows a lump in his throat.

“Are you still going to go to New York?”

“Can we please not talk about-.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I’ll shut up.”

Eric sighs softly, his fingertips trailing lazily down the length of my cheek.

“These violent delights have violent ends.”

”What do you mean?” I ask, recognizing the quote, but failing to recognize what, if any, relevance it has to the present moment.

“I just thought you might like to know what my favorite line was.”


	12. Feels Like A Goddamn Movie Sometimes

It’s raining again outside. Eric and I are sat opposite one another down in the commons. Our usual table by the window, rain beating against the glass next to us. He’s annoyed, but so am I. Annoyed by the whole situation. I hadn’t wanted any part of this. Mom had bugged me relentlessly, pretended to cry and played on my sympathies to the point where I felt I was backed into a corner. One word had come up over and over and over again, playing on her lips like a broken record; Divorce. 

Eric frowns at me from across the table. His expression quickly changing from one of amusement, thinking I was joking, to one of annoyance upon realizing I was not.

“You’ve got to be shitting me, Lucy!” 

“I shit you not, unfortunately.”

“Oh fucking no.” He shakes his head adamantly.“Abso-fucking-lutely not! It’s not happening!” 

“It’s not like I want to, Eric,” I lean over the table, closer towards him. “Mom is playing the divorce card and guilting me into it.”

“I don’t give a fuck! You’re not tutoring that asshole, you know the fucker is just looking for a reason to try and get close to you again!”

“Will you keep your voice down, please?” I plead, glancing around the cafeteria.“I knew you wouldn’t be happy about it but-.”

“Now there’s a fucking understatement if I ever heard one!”

“But,” I continue. “There’s no need for you to freak out. You know how much that douchebag repulses me.”

“Maybe so, but you did used to date the son of a bitch,” Eric grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s trying to work the tension out of it, a nervous habit he possesses. “For whatever fucking reason. Whatever the hell came over you..” 

“Please don’t be like this, Eric. I’m dreading it enough already without you acting like a big baby on top of it.”

He looks at me as though I just slapped him across the face then leans across the table toward me, hazel eyes penetrating my own, expression serious as a heart attack.

I’m shocked momentarily to find he actually looks a little scary. Something about the way he’s staring at me, the look on his face, for one brief moment, for some undefinable reason, it chills me. I try to ignore the feeling, but denying its existence entirely is impossible.

“I’d rather be a damn baby than a spineless little pushover like you who can’t say no to her Mommy!”

I feel my eyebrows shoot up in surprise, mouth falling open slightly as I stare back at him. If his immediate change of expression is any indication, he regrets the statement as soon as it leaves his mouth.

“Fuck, Lucy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that!” 

“No, Eric. Sorry isn’t fucking good enough this time.” I rise from my seat, frowning at him.“I’m sick of this shit!”

I can feel the eyes of several other students at surrounding tables on us, but I couldn’t give a fuck who’s listening now.

“You seem to think it’s fine to act like a total asshole if you just apologize afterwards.”

“I’m the asshole?” he asks incredulously. “You wanna go hang out with your ex-boyfriend, the same fucker who was about to pummel my ass in the hallway last week, and you’re calling me the asshole?” He forces a laugh, shaking his head.“I think you might actually be the asshole in this equation, Lucy.”

I don’t bother to respond verbally this time, instead offering him a quick look of disgust before turning around and walking away from the table.

Want to! He knows damn well I don’t fucking want to!

I’m halfway up the steps leading to the second floor of the building when I hear him calling after me; “Just wait a goddamn second, would you?!”

I turn around to see him stood at the bottom of the stairs, hands on his hips, frowning up at me.

“What the fuck do you want, shithead?!”

The two of us stare angrily at each other for a couple of long, tense moments. Then I notice the corners of his lips beginning to twitch and I find my own doing the same before in unison we erupt into loud and sudden laughter.

He jogs up the half flight of stairs separating us, stoping on the step in front of me. “You, you goddamn bitch! You’re what I want! And Evans can’t fucking have you!”

A couple of students passing us on the stairs have turned to look at us in shock. The two of us are laughing so hard we have tears streaming down our faces as we reach the second floor.

“You’re such a cocksucker, Harris!”

“Oh, shut up, you damn whore!” 

I feel more eyes on us as we continue down the hall, but this if anything, only adds to our amusement. 

“Make me, you fucking asshole!” 

Eric wipes a tear from his eye, shoulders shaking up and down, his loud and lovely laughter permeating the air around us as we walk. It takes a second or two for him to compose himself enough to reply.

“Oh, I’ll make you, you dumb bitch!”

We suddenly notice a small group of freshman passing by have stopped to gape at us. That just gets us going even more, the two of us laughing so hard it becomes a struggle to catch our breath.

What had begun as a genuine fight has now turned into the seemingly impossible task of trying to stop laughing. I have to stop for a second, doubled over in the hallway, a hand pressed up against a locker for support.

Then Eric’s arms are wrapped around me, pulling me towards him, features soft and amused. “I love you,” he says, barely succeeding at getting the words out through fits of breathless laughter. “You fucking bitch.”

He kisses me there in the hall, soft and sweet in contrast to our words, hands roaming tantalizingly up and down along my sides.

”I love you more, you total bastard, you.”

“Get a fucking room!” someone passing by jeers. 

It’s followed by obnoxious laughter. We don’t find out who either comes from, too busy staring at one another, smiling like the cat that’s got the cream. 

“We still on for later tonight, Lucy goosey?” 

“Of course we are, fuck-face, I can’t wait.” 

‘ _And to this day the identity of the Zodiac killer remains a mystery, having evaded both law-enforcement and justice since these terrible crimes occurred...’_

Dad is riveted, eyes glued to the T.V. screen. He manages to tear his gaze away for a moment, looking over at me with a smile as I enter the living room.

“There’s my girl! How was school?”

“It’s over now.” I let my backpack fall to the floor and flop down on the couch next to him. “That’s the main thing.”

‘ _Throughout the years various experts have analyzed his cryptic messages, desperately attempting to decipher the hidden code...’_

“Any closer to cracking the case, Dad?”

“Don’t I wish, this one has bugged the hell out of me for years.”

“Oh, I know. I still remember Mom freaking out at you for turning the spare room into your unofficial base of investigation.”

Dad starts to chuckle. “That’s right! I forgot about that, she wanted to turn it into a sewing room.”

“Totally understandable,” I retort, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Her having a room to sew in is obviously far more important than potentially finding out who the zodiac killer was.”

“Oh, yeah,” he nods his head in agreement. “Obviously.”

“Lucy!” Mom bellows from the kitchen. “That you, cupcake?”

“Speak of the devil,” Dad mutters.

“I hate when she calls me that.”

“I know you do,” he smiles amusedly.

“Still, you better go see what she wants.”

I rise from the couch with a groan and am halfway across the room when my Mom appears in the doorway. Her eyes briefly scan me up and down. It becomes immediately apparent that she isn’t impressed. I’m clad in a baggy pair of sweatpants and a comfy oversized Metallica T-shirt.

“Lucy, Scott is going to be here any minute!” she exclaims, far more dramatically than could possibly be necessary.

“Don’t you want to go make yourself look a little more presentable?”

Christ on a fucking bike, is she serious? The fact that she’s forcing me to do this in the first place is enough to make me want to tear my hair out at the roots. Now she wants me to get all dolled-up for this horrendous occasion too? I know she wants me and Scott to get back together, that much is obvious. She was happy as a pig in shit when we first started dating, having been best friends with his Mom since middle school.

“I think I look fine, Mom.”

“Do you want to look just fine, Lucy?” she asks, eyeing me up and down once more.

“You look so pretty when you actually put a little effort into your appearance.”

The prospect of moving to New York is suddenly far more appealing.

“Thanks, Mom. That’s a real boost to the old self-esteem right there.”

“You always look lovely, Lucy,” Dad interjects. “Don’t listen to her.”

“Oh, shut up, David!” Mom snaps. “God forbid I want our daughter to be happy!

Dad sighs heavily in response.

“In case you’ve been too wasted the past few weeks to notice, Beverly, her and Scott have broken up.”

“She’s dating the Harris boy now and if you ask me, she seems a hell of a lot happier than she has in a long time!”

“How would you know?!” she demands. “You’re never even here, David! You’re far too busy eating donuts down at the station all day to pay any attention to your children!”

Woah, Mom. Shots fired. Jesus fucking Christ, I’m never getting married. The argument is thankfully brought to a sudden standstill by the chime of the doorbell. Never in a million years had I imagined I’d actually be relieved to have Scott Evans show up at my house again.

Soon the two of us are sat opposite each other at the kitchen table, pouring over our school books. It’s difficult to ignore how painfully awkward and forced the situation feels, but I do my best. Striving only to get this over with as quickly as possible, hopefully with my sanity still intact.

“You just need to conjugate these last few verbs and you’re done.”

“Conjugate?” he repeats the word, ironically, as though it were spoken in another language.

I resist the urge to bury my face in my hands in frustration.

“Yes, we already went over what that means, remember?”

“Right,” he says, clearly having no recollection whatsoever as to what I’m talking about.

Teaching Scott French is like trying to teach a blind man to read.

“Maybe we should take a quick break,” I suggest, rising from the table.

“I want to go call Eric real quick and let him know we’re almost done. We’re going to the movies after this.”

“You’re still with him?” he asks, raising his eyebrows as he closes the book in front of him. “I heard you two broke up.”

Eric asked me not to do this, I know, but I can’t not mention it.

I can’t not bring it up while we’re here

“You did, huh? You know what I heard, Scott?”

”What’s that?”

”I heard you and your dickhead friends roughed him up in the hallway and shoved him up against a locker for no reason.”

“What the hell was that about?”

”Oh I had a reason alright,” he insists. 

“It’s not my fault he has such a smart fucking mouth on him. The little shit was asking for it, Lucy, believe me.”

A wave of anger washes over me, immediate and intense in its ferocity.

It takes more strength than I knew I had in me not to clock him in the face with the frying pan laying next to me on the stove.

“Don’t talk about him like that, you dick!”

Scott is visibly taken aback at the statement, as if he should have anticipated any other reaction in response. 

“If you or any of your buddies ever lays so much as a finger on him again, you can forget all about me helping you with your French,” I warn him.

“And I know you can’t afford to fail another class without being kicked off the football team.”

He frowns deeply at me.

“Lucy, I never meant to scare the little dork. I just wanted to teach him some respect is all.”

”And as much as I’d love to kick the little shit’s teeth in, it wouldn’t be worth never talking to you again.”

It truly takes my breath away, the fact that he actually seems to think I’d react positively to that remark. 

I feel my hand drifting over towards the frying pan, now vividly fantasizing about caving his face in with it.

Don’t do it, Peters.

He’s not worth the prison time.

“I guess I can lay off the little dweeb, Lucy,” he continues with a shrug of his shoulders.

“If only for your sake.”

Wow, what an angel.

“How the Vatican hasn’t offered to make you a saint already is beyond me, Scott.”

He looks at me in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

I ignore the question, too busy internally cringing over the fact that I used to willingly refer to myself as this buffoon’s girlfriend.

“Any chance you could stop insulting him as well while you’re at it?”

“That’s asking a bit too much,” he chuckles, noticeably beginning to eye me up and down as I stand in front of him.

“You’re going to need to offer me a little more incentive if you want that to happen...”

Scott licks his lips in a sleazy kind of way and it becomes a struggle not to gag.

I am floored however by the fact he not only knows the word ‘incentive,’ but also managed to use it correctly in a sentence. 

“How about I don’t kick you in the balls until you’re rendered unconscious from the pain?” I suggest.

“Is that incentive enough for you?”

“Oh, someone’s gotten feisty since we broke up, I like it!” 

He brings his arms back, folding them behind his head, smirking at me.

“It’s kind of hot actually.”

I somehow manage to avoid projectile vomiting all over the floor.

“And you’re kind of gross,” I shudder deliberately, hoping to emphasize my point.

“Come on, babe,” he laughs. “Don’t be like that.”

I loathe that particular term of endearment in general, but especially coming from him.

“Has the prolonged steroid usage started to fuck with your brain or something? I’m not your damn babe, you douchebag!”

”Besides, you know I used to hate it when you called me that.” 

“Oh, I get it,” he says quietly, nodding his head. “Now you just hate me in general, don’t you?” 

I roll my eyes, but there is a distinct tinge of what appears to be genuine sadness in his voice.

“I don’t hate you, Scott. I don’t particularly like you, if truth be told, but I don’t hate you either.”

I don’t care enough about you to.

He looks somewhat relieved. 

“Good, because I’ve never gotten over you, Lucy, and I don’t think I ever will.”

Oh Lord, here we fucking go.

Eric was right.

Why did I think I could even attempt to be civil with this douchebag?

He’s like a spoiled child and I’m the toy he only wants because another kid is now playing with it.

“It’s like the world is trying to keep us away from one another, Lucy, even though I know we’re meant to be together.”

A small gasp falls from my lips.

‘ _Although the universe may conspire to keep us apart, our love is written in the stars.’_

It was him.

The black rose was from Scott all along.

“That was you that left that rose on my doorstep for me, wasn’t it?”

As much of an asshole as he undoubtedly is, I could practically feel the emotion jumping from the page when I’d read that note.

And as much as I hadn’t wanted to admit it to myself, I had found it slightly touching that someone would pen such beautiful words with me in mind.

“Yeah,” he nods his head slowly. “You caught me, Lucy. That was from me.”

Holy fucking shit.

Having him actually confirm it stuns me to the core, leaving me standing there staring at him in total disbelief.

“I had considered you as a possibility,” I admit. “I just never thought you’d be able to write something so...”

“So what?”

“So beautiful, so poetic...”

“Looks like you had me pegged all wrong, didn’t you?” he smiles somewhat smugly as he leans back in his chair.

“I wouldn’t go that far!”

To a certain extent, though, I guess I did.

“Thank you for the rose, Scott. I mean, you shouldn’t have sent it in the first place, but it was beautiful.”

“I bet Harris never gives you flowers.”

At least he referred to him by his actual name this time.

Scott’s lips stretch into a shit-eating grin and my appreciation begins to decrease considerably.

It occurs to me that one good whack with the frying pan would wipe that stupid smile right off his face.

“You’d bet wrong,” I inform him. “He has given me flowers before and as tough as this might be for you to hear, I am very, very much in love with him.”

“What the hell do you even see in him anyway, Lucy?”

“Everything, Scott,” I reply, unable to fight the small smile that touches my lips at just the thought of him. 

“Abso-fucking-lutely everything.”

Scott’s expression is surprisingly crestfallen and I suddenly hate myself for possessing any feelings of empathy whatsoever in his regard.

Eric is right, I am way too fucking nice for my own good.

“Maybe we could be friends some day, Scott. If you lay off Eric like you promised, that is, and we give it a little time.”

“You’d really want to be friends with me, Lucy? After everything?”

He looks so hopeful at the prospect I don’t have it in me to tell him the truth.

And besides, lying to him might help get him off Eric’s back for a while. 

“Hey, stranger things have happened, like I said, let’s just give it some time and see how things go.”

”You need to leave Eric the fuck alone though, alright?

“Alright, Lucy. Thanks. I’d still like to be a part of your life, you know, even if just as friends.”

The two of us are just about finishing up when I hear my Mom talking to someone in the hall.

“She’s actually a little busy at the moment, Eric. Maybe you can come back later.”

I’m in the hall in seconds, Scott’s existence all but forgotten.

Eric is stood in the doorway, looking severely irritated as he stares daggers at my Mom.

“She knows I’m coming, Mrs. Peters,” he says the words slowly as though struggling to keep himself calm.

“I’m supposed to pick her up.”

I find myself scowling at my Mother as I approach the front door.

“Hey, Eric.”

I greet him as per usual, involuntarily grinning like a love-struck fool as l lean up against the frame of the door.

“Lucy!”

He grins back, taking a step closer.

My heart swells a little in my chest.

“Hi! You look great!”

My Mom frowns at him, then rolls her eyes.

Without saying another word she turns around and skulks off towards the kitchen, presumably to crack open another bottle of wine.

“I’m so sorry about her, Eric,” I apologize, both embarrassed and irritated by her behavior.

“I don’t know what her fucking problem is.”

“Don’t worry about it, Lucy goosey. I’m just happy to see you.”

I’m happy to see him, too.

More than happy.

We stand there smiling at each other like a couple of idiots for what feels like an unreasonably long amount of time.

God, it really is fucking good to see him, even if it has only been a few hours.

The moment is promptly spoiled.

“Hey, Lucy,” I hear Scott’s voice call my name from behind me.

“Do you think you could go over something with me again before you leave?”

Eric’s eyes leave mine briefly, frowning at him before looking back at me. 

”Any trouble?”

I shake my head.

”Good.”

He moves faster than I would have thought humanly possible, lips crashing against my own as he takes me in his arms.

Holding me tightly against him, his tongue quickly finds its way into my mouth while a hand roams downward, grabbing my ass.

“Eric!” I laugh between kisses, ignoring the feeling of Scott’s eyes burning a hole in the back of my head.

Sometimes it feels as though I could literally melt into his arms.

A brief oasis of calm in a world of utter chaos.

“Mine,” Eric practically growls the word against my lips, gripping me against him, loving and possessive. “Nobody else’s.”

I head back upstairs to change before we leave, somewhat enjoying the fact that this will likely annoy Mom.

I opt for something I hope will leave Eric’s jaw on the floor as soon as he sees me in it.

I might not care about Mom or Scott’s opinion where my appearance is concerned, but I do care about his.

He’s very much a leg man and I made Sarah take me shopping for a new skirt just for the occasion.

After how much fun we’d all had at the fair together, we decide to to invite both Sarah and Dylan to tag along with us.

I observe a slightly distracted Eric glancing down at my legs repeatedly as he drives the short distance to Dylan’s house.

Sarah apparently notices too, starting to laugh from where she’s sat in the back. 

“Dude, do you think you can you stop perving on my little sister for five minutes and maybe concentrate on the fucking road instead?”

“I’m just admiring the design of her skirt,” Eric insists innocently, a small smirk playing on his lips. “That’s all.”

Eric and Dylan want to to see ‘Lethal Weapon 4’ but Sarah and I have our hearts set on ‘Meet Joe Black.’

After some brief yet heated debate in the lobby of the theatre, Eric suggests we leave it up to fate, resolving the matter with a coin toss.

“Call it in the air.”

Dylan send the coin flying skyward.

Heads!”

He catches the coin in his left hand, placing it down atop his right.

Eric leans over to see the result.

“Goddamn it!”

We grab our snacks and drinks from the counter and set off to find our seats, the four of us ending up in a row near the back.

“This movie sucks,” Eric mutters about halfway through the film.

“Will you be quiet? I’m enjoying it.”

“Then you suck too.”

I give him a quick look before turning my eyes back to the screen.

“You just wanted to see this because your boyfriend Brad Pitt is in it, didn’t you?”

“That’s probably why you won’t agree to the two of us officially getting back together again.”

“You wanna leave that window open for Brad.”

“Eric, please shut up.”

He sighs, throwing his head back against the chair.

“I’m bored, Lucy,” he whines, shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“So?” I whisper. “What do you want me to do about it?”

He proceeds to chew for a few seconds, swallows, then leans over in his chair toward me.

“Entertain me,” he whispers back.

“Let the movie entertain you. After paying for it you might as well get your money’s worth.”

He omits a quick snort of derision.

“Unless an alien invasion or a zombie apocalypse breaks out within the next twenty minutes, there’s no chance of me getting my money’s worth for this shit.”

I ignore him, trying to watch the movie.

He continues.

“I hate chick-flicks, Lucy. We should have gone to see that new Lethal Weapon movie instead.”

A middle-aged woman sat in front of us turns around in her seat, taking it upon herself to chastise Eric for talking.

“Do you mind?” she huffs, furrowing her brow at him.

“Not at all,” he replies, tilting his head back, dropping a few more pieces of popcorn into his mouth.

He begins to crunch them loudly between his teeth.

She frowns at him, clearly unimpressed, then turns back around in her seat.

“Cranky old bag,” Eric mumbles.

She glances back over her shoulder, looking as though she’d love little more in this life than to plant a good hard smack across his face.

Eric’s response is to smile widely at her, hands too low behind the chair for her to see the two middle fingers being raised at her.

We settle back in and continue to watch the movie.

Eric’s hand finds its way to my knee, resting there.

I look over and find his gaze now fixed on the screen in front of us.

I keep watching, attempting to pick up where I left off, he has other ideas.

Slowly, his hand begins to slide up along my knee to my lower thigh.

Glancing over again, I see him still staring ahead, expression stoic.

His fingers play with the material of my skirt before sliding up underneath it.

My hand closes around his, stopping him.

He finally turns to look at me.

“Stop it,” I mouth. “Later.”

He slumps back in his chair defeatedly, rolling his eyes, but decides to finally behave himself.

Several whole minutes manage to go by before he he leans over in his chair again.

He gently sweeps the hair back from the side of my face, tucking it behind my ear.

So close I can feel his breath on my face as he begins to whisper.

“You know what I wanna do right now?”

“What, Eric?” I sigh, slightly annoyed as I help myself to another handful of popcorn.

“I wanna get down on my knees, pull your panties down and eat you out right here in front of everyone.”

“Oh My God!” I gasp, narrowly avoiding choking on the popcorn in my mouth.

Eric begins to laugh, running a hand up and down along my back as I start to cough.

“You okay?”

Cranky old bag, Dylan and Sarah have now all turned to look at us.

Eric is far too amused by this, smiling like he just found out he has the winning lottery numbers.

“Be quiet!” cranky old bag hisses.

“We’re very sorry,” he apologizes, eyeing her like a bad smell as she turns back around in her chair.

“That you’re such a joyless old bitch,” he adds beneath his breath.

“So,” he leans back in, voice low as he proceeds to wiggle his eyebrows up and down at me.

“What do you say?”

“I don’t suppose you’re in the mood for a twelve-inch pepperoni?”

I struggle to stifle my laughter, not wanting to endure the wrath of the now severely irate woman sat in front of us.

“Nice try, Harris, but pizza isn’t on the menu tonight, I’m afraid.”

He pouts at me, sniffling as he wipes an imaginary tear from his eye.

“I do want to go grab a box of jelly-babies, though. Do you want anything?”

“There’s only one thing I’m hungry for, Lucy,” he informs me, voice low and dark.

“Well, if that’s the case I’m afraid you’re just going to have to starve.”

We let the other two know that we’re going to go get more candy and as I rise from my chair that is my genuine intent.

Things end up taking a very different turn entirely however once we reach the lobby.

“Come on, Lucy. Just fifteen minutes. You know you want it just as badly as I do...”

And soon we end up in the backseat of his car, yet again, now parked off the road, just down the street from the movie theatre.

The encounter, much like our relationship itself, is quick, intense and far more addictive than it should be.

Hand in hand, still basking in the sweetness of the afterglow, we make our way back inside.

“Damn, that was hot,” Eric sighs, holding the door open for me.

“After you, Miss Peters.”

I walk in ahead of him.

“Yeah, it was fun,” I agree, glancing back at him as he walks in behind me.

”Even if you did kill the vibe for me a little when you shouted ‘thar she blows’ in the middle of it.”

“Oh, come on” he chuckles. “That shit was funny.”

“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to shout when you see a whale?

“That is not what I meant, Lucy, and you fucking know it!”

“Yeah, well, I... Oh My God!”

Eric and I are stopped dead in our tracks by the extremely unexpected scene unfolding in front of us.

Sarah’s arms are draped over Dylan’s shoulders, the two of them kissing like one of them is about to be sent off to war the next day.

“Holy shit,” Eric laughs delightedly.

“Vodka, my man! Fucking get you some!”

Dylan begins to laugh a little himself, looking slightly embarrassed as the two of them separate, finally decide to stop the assault on one another’s tonsils.

Sarah smiles nonchalantly as she looks up at me, shrugging her shoulders.

“I’m going to report all four of you to the manager!” cranky old bag informs us, rising from her chair.

Sarah turns to look at her, irritated.

“Yeah, you go do that, you old cunt!”

Later that night, I’m sat cross-legged in front of her on my bed as she braids my hair.

“I still can’t believe you kissed him, Sarah.”

“Why not?”

She continues to grab small sections of hair from the front of my head, bringing them towards the back, adding them to the braid.

“Dylan’s sort of cute in a nerdy kind of way.”

“You’re not actually interested in pursuing anything with him, are you?”

“Well, no,” she admits. “Not really. I’m still kind of hoping Jason and I will get back together.”

As much as I love my big sister, I can’t help but being slightly annoyed by her response.

“Then why did you kiss him?”

“I was bored,” she laughs. “Why do you care anyway? You’re with Eric.”

“Yeah, but Dylan is my friend.”

“Is that all he is?”

Even though I can’t see her I can tell that she’s smiling as she asks the question.

“He wouldn’t stop talking about you that night at the fair when we wandered off together you know.” 

I feel my face begin to heat up, mildly embarrassed.

I had suspected he might like me before.

Even if that was the case, I sincerely doubt he’d ever jeopardize his relationship with Eric by admitting to it, let alone doing anything about it.

“He was high as a kite that night,” I reason, attempting to dismiss her entirely.

“Yeah, he was, but still, I think the only reason he made out with me tonight is because I’m the closest thing he could get to you.”

In either scenario, whether he likes me or not, that is definitely not the case.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Sarah. You’re fucking gorgeous, you have guys fawning all over you wherever you go.”

Again, without seeing her I can tell that she’s smiling.

“Not all of them, apparently.”

The next day, I’m lounging on my bed, adding the finishing touches to a drawing I’m working on when there’s a knock at the front door.

My first thought is that it’s Eric, having come to surprise me after getting off of work early.

I make my way to the window, pulling the curtain back and peering outside.

Dylan’s BMW is parked at the end of my driveway.

Opening the front door, I’m met with a slightly apprehensive looking Dylan.

“Hey, Lucy,” he greets me with his usual soft, almost shy smile. 

“Is Sarah home?”

My heart sinks a little in my chest.

“No, her and Mom have gone shopping, they won’t be back for a few hours.”

“Oh, okay, will you just tell her I stopped by, then?”

“Of course, I will, Dylan.”

“Thanks, Lucy. I’m sorry I missed her. I was really hoping the two of us could talk.”

My heart sinks further still.

“Hey, do you wanna come in and hang out for a little while?”

“Just the two of us?” he asks a little cautiously.

“Sure, why not? I have some time to kill before Eric gets off work and I was just about to make some cocoa if you want some.”

Dylan looks slightly awkward sat there on the couch when I walk back into the living room, a steaming mug of cocoa in each hand.

“Here you go,” I offer one to him.

He takes it with a smile as I sit down on the couch next to him.

“Thanks, Lucy.”

He blows on the top of his drink, attempting to cool it down before taking a mouthful.

“It’s good.”

He nods, bringing the mug back up to his lips.

“So, Eric tells me you’re tutoring Evans now.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me, Dylan.”

“That bad, huh?” he chuckles. 

“My Mom is guilt-tripping me into it but I did finally find out who the black rose was from.”

Dylan’s eyes grow to the size of saucers.

“What do... what do you mean? How did you find out?”

“Scott admitted he was the one behind it,” I inform him with a roll of my eyes.

“As much as it kills me to do it, I have to give him some props. I never would have thought the fucker had it in him to write something as beautiful as that.”

“Lucy,” Dylan says my name softly, a light flush of pink beginning to appear on his cheeks.

“Scott wasn’t the one who sent you the rose.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”

“Yeah, but how?”

“Because...”

His eyes are fixed on the floor, as though it’s suddenly become the most interesting thing in the world.

“Because what, Dylan?”

He glances back up at me and as our eyes meet I can’t help noticing that he looks slightly ashamed.

Dylan slowly begins to shake his head back and fourth, face now having turned a deep shade of crimson.

“Because, Lucy,” he says, so quietly it’s barely even audible. “It was from me.”

I’m too shocked to form an immediate reply, having somehow never even considered the possibility that it was from him.

“I know you’re with Eric,” he hurriedly continues. “And believe me, I’d never fucking dream of trying to interfere with that.”

“He had the hots for you long before you two started dating, but to be honest, Lucy, I really didn’t like you at all up until that point.”

“Oh gee, thanks, Dylan!” I laugh.

“Shit! That’s not what I meant... I mean it is, but... fuck!”

The more he works himself up, the redder his face seems to get.

“Just slow down, Dylan, take a deep breath. It’s alright.”

He does as I say, looking as though he’d rather be anywhere else on Earth right now.

“I didn’t dislike you necessarily, more so what you and your friends as a whole represented to me,” he explains, slowly managing to regain some of his decorum.

“Then I got to know you a little more and I started to think that maybe there was a reason we met.”

I sit there quietly as he speaks, taking the occasional sip of cocoa.

“The more time I spent around you and Eric, though, the more I realized that you two were serious, that you were his halcyon, not mine.”

“His what?”

“Never mind.”

He shakes his head. 

“I think I just got a little carried away is all, that’s the point I’m trying to make. I turned what was just some silly crush into something else entirely in my mind.”

”Honesty, I hadn’t actually intended for you to ever find out that I was the one behind it.” 

“You moved on pretty fast, didn’t you?” I smile. 

“Yeah,” he laughs, shrugging his shoulders. “I guess I kind of did.”

“You don’t still have feelings for me, do you?”

“Even if I did, I wouldn’t let them interfere with my friendship with Eric, I can promise you that.”

“You really care about him, don’t you?”

“Of course, I do. I felt so fucking disgusted with myself for betraying him like that.”

“You hardly betrayed him, Dylan, especially if you never even planned on telling me it was from you.”

“Do you think Eric would see it that way?”

“Oh, fuck no, have you met him?” I laugh.

“Who really knows with him, though? He’s nothing if not full of surprises.”

“That’s for fucking sure,” he agrees.

“I wouldn’t have ever told you it was from me, but I just didn’t want to that asshole Evans to get away with lying to you.”

“Well, thanks for telling me, Dylan. I appreciate it and I really hope we can still be friends.”

“Don’t be so retarded, Lucy,” he smiles, nudging me in the side with an elbow.

“Of course we can.”

”Things aren’t going to be weird between us now, though, are they?”

I smile back at him, offering up what I hope is a reassuring pat to the arm.

“Life is fucking weird in general, Dylan. Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll move past it.”

He leaves soon after and I head back up to my room to resume drawing.

A few hours later, I’m still sat in my room, staring at the clock, willing the hands to turn faster.

I’m smiling as soon as I hear the eagerly anticipated knock on the front door, taking the stairs two at a time as I hurry down to greet him.

We’ve bonded over a mutual love of music since we met. Tonight is no different, with me bringing along one of my favorite CD’s for the two of us to listen to in the car.

‘ _Broken hymen of your highness, I’m left black. Throw down your umbilical noose so I can climb right back...’_

Eric pulls up outside the video store and finds a spot to park near the door, music coming to a halt as he turns the car off.

“What about this one?” I suggest, fighting a smile as I pass the video to him.

He raises an eyebrow at me disbelieving as he takes it.

“Really, Lucy?”

“Come on, Eric,” I tease. “You know how much I love Brad Pitt.”

“No, woman, you love to make me suffer, that’s what you love!”

”And you’re fucking crazy if you think I’m going to sit though another hour and a half of that wooden pretty boy attempting to act!”

“Crazy for you, maybe,” I grin, stealing one of his moves as I proceed to wiggle my eyebrows up and down at him.

He tries to frown at me, but fails, lips curling up into a smile.

I insist that we rent one of my favorite movies as soon as he informs me he’s never seen it.

“You’re going to love Austin Powers,” I tell him as we approach the counter. “It’s such a fucking classic.”

“I’m not sure it’s my kind of humor, Lucy.”

“Then I’m not sure you’re my kind of man, Eric.”

His eyebrows shoot up, mouth falling open in pretend offense.

“I was your kind of man yesterday when you were moaning my name over and over again in the backseat of my car...”

“Okay,” I laugh, leaning up against the counter as we wait to be served. “Point taken.”

“I’m really glad you’re not going to torture me with another one, but you’re more than worth sitting though a thousand shitty Brad Pitt movies for.”

I plant a small kiss on his lips, then another, then another.

His hands find my waist and he smiles at me, forehead pressed against my own.

“You really know how to flatter a girl, don’t you, Harris? You romantic son of a bitch, you.”

I hear movement to the side of us and my blood runs cold as I turn to look at the employee behind the counter.

“Hey, Lucy, long time no see, how’ve you been?”

What the fuck is she doing working here?

Her parents are loaded.

I’m too stunned to do anything but say hello back.

“Hi, Laura.”

Eric’s hands fall from my waist as he too turns to look at her.

“I didn’t know you were working here.”

“Yeah, I am, unfortunately,” she leans over the counter, lowering her voice. “My Dad lost his job a few weeks ago so I’m just trying to help out at home.”

I’m surprised not only by her bluntness, but also her apparently selfless attitude.

Maybe she’s actually grown a little as a person.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Laura.”

“Thanks, Lucy,” she smiles somewhat awkwardly, gesturing toward the both of us with a wave of her hand.

“I see you two are still together.”

“Aren’t you observant?” Eric asks sarcastically, more than a hint of bitterness in his voice as he slaps the VHS tape down on the counter.

“Just ring us the fuck up, please.”

“Eric...”

“What?!” he snaps. “I fucking said please, didn’t I?!” 

He’s still pissed, ranting and raving as we make our way back out towards the car.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Lucy, you’re too damn nice!”

”I would have ripped that bitch apart if I were you! I would have torn her limb from fucking limb!”

“That’s cause you’re a sick puppy, Harris.”

He stops walking and stands there staring at me for a moment.

I’m about to say something else when he distracts me by sticking his tongue out, beginning to pant loudly.

“What are yo-.”

He starts to bark and growl at me, then his teeth close gently around the flesh of my lower arm.

“Stop it!” I laugh. “Bad doggy!”

I’m suddenly made aware of several pairs of stranger’s eyes on us as we stand there.

He follows my line of vision and much to both my horror and amusement, begins to bark at the small group of bystanders as well.

“God, I love you,” I tell him, continuing to laugh as he opens the passenger side door of the car for me.

He grins at me as I climb in, totally ignoring the looks of concern from various strangers scattered across the parking lot. 

“You total fucking weirdo.” 

After what a bitch my Mom was the last day we decide to go back to Eric’s place as opposed to mine to watch the movie.

“Even if you don’t like the film, you’ll definitely be able to appreciate the fembots.”

“What the fuck is a fembot?”

“They’re these beautiful female androids that can shoot bullets from their tits,” I explain as we climb out of the car. 

“Just when I thought tits couldn’t get any better,” he chuckles. “Sounds right up my alley.” 

Eric’s hand has barely touched the doorknob when the door is ripped open.

And his Mom is standing there, looking less than thrilled to say the least.

“Eric. Kitchen. Now.”

The two of us exchange a quick look of concern, then I’m left standing alone in the hall while he heads into the kitchen after her. 

Sparky appears out of nowhere, coming bounding down the hall towards me.

“Hey, boy!” I grin, bending down to pet him. “How’re you doing, little buddy?”

“Your owner is nuts, do you know that?”

I can barely hear what Eric and his Mom are saying in the kitchen but one sentence is clear as a bell. 

“Why did I find this in your room, Eric?” 

I’m more than a little surprised when his Mom calls out from the kitchen, asking me to join them.

Hesitantly, I make my way into the next room, where Eric is stood by the fridge, a horrified expression on his face. 

His Mom, stood next to him, looks angry but concerned.

“I think those might be yours, dear,” she says curtly, pointing to a small piece of crumpled up, purple material.

“What is-.”

I feel my face grow hot as it slowly begins to dawn on me what it is she’s pointing at.

“Oh My God!”

Glancing over at Eric, I can tell he’s just as mortified, if not more so, than I am.

I was wondering where the fuck I’d left those panties.

Eric’s Mom refuses to relent to begging, flattery and outright bribery, insisting upon calling my parents, despite desperate pleas on both his and my behalf. 

I’m made extremely uncomfortable by a long and awkward lecture from my parents as soon as I arrive home. 

My Dad, both furious and embarrassed after the phone call, forbids me from seeing Eric again. 

The next day at school, we decide to skip second period to discuss the dire situation at hand and work out just what the fuck our next move is going to be. 

Sat in his car together, radio playing low, I seem completely unable to stop the steady stream of tears. 

“It’s gonna be okay, Lucy, I promise.”

He hugs me tightly against him, running a soothing hand up and down my back as he attempts to reassure me.

“They can’t stop us from seeing each other. We’ll find a way around it. We always do.”

“My Dad said he’d castrate you if you ever came near me again,” I sob, dabbing at my eyes with the sleeve of my shirt.

Eric chuckles, releasing me from his embrace as he falls back into his chair.

“He just doesn’t like the fact that you’re growing up. That you’re my baby now, not his.”

“I sincerely doubt he’s gonna try to cut my dick off, Lucy,” he laughingly adds.

“Besides, he’d need a damn chainsaw for that.” 

That makes me laugh for the first time all day. 

“Do you love me, Lucy?”

“You know I do.”

“And you know I love you, too, right?”

I nod weakly.

“Totally and completely...” 

He smiles softly as he reaches over, cupping my face in his hand, gently wiping a tear from my cheek with his thumb. 

“... with every beat of my black little heart.”

Even in the bleakest of situations he never fails to get a smile out of me.

“Do you trust me?”

“With my life.”

“Good, because I’m going to need you to do me a little favor, Lucy goosey.”

He sighs, casting his gaze down toward the floor of the car.

“Anything, Eric. What is it?”

“I wouldn’t ask this of you if there was any other way, believe me.”

“What do you want me to do?” I ask, growing a little concerned.

“Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

He looks back up at me, biting down on the corner of his lip.

“I’m going to need you to borrow your Dad’s gun for me.”


	13. You Make Everyday Feel Like Kindergarten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If it doesn’t involve azaleas or a chilled glass of Chablis, Lucy’s Mom has no shits to give.
> 
> Apologies for the delay. A bitch was all up in her feelings, as the kids say, plus I broke my phone. Anyway, here’s an entire fucking novel for you.

I might as well be a Buddhist monk after taking a vow of silence as far as my parents are concerned, having successfully avoided speaking to either of them for days now.

It was bad enough they decided not to let me see Eric anymore, but then they just had to go and add a horrible little cherry to the top of the shit sundae they’d already served up.

They’re going to go ahead and file for divorce after all and Dad got that promotion.

He’s being transferred to New York next month and has already procured an application for me to fill in for that art school he keeps jabbering on about.

Sarah, the lucky bitch, has already gone back home to her and Jason’s place. She’d poked her head around my bedroom door this morning while I was getting ready for school, tossing a box of condoms on the bed as way of a parting gift.

“Here, you little hoe, make sure you two idiots use these. I don’t want any little brats running around calling me Aunt Sarah. I’m getting the fuck out of here. Good luck with those two nutcases we call parents.” 

I find myself missing my sister already, very much wishing she was still here as I sit in awkward silence with my parents in the living room.

“Lucy, will you say something, please?” Dad pleads, provoking the slightest bit of guilt.

“Will you let me see Eric again?”

“We already talked about th-.

“Then I have nothing to say to either of you.”

I resist the powerful urge to add the word ‘assholes’ to the end of the sentence, valuing life far too much.

“If you and Eric insist on being psychical with each other you’re going to have to-.”

Oh sweet merciful Christ! Not this again, please!

“La! La! La! I can’t hear you!”

I clamp my hands over my ears, closing my eyes, determined not to suffer through this torment again.

“If you’re not mature enough to have this conversation then you’re not mature enough to-.”

“I don’t care about being mature! I’m not listening to you and Mom talk about fucking again!”

“Lucy, watch your-.”

“Nope! La! La! La! La! La!”

Dad’s face has visibly grown more irritated and I know I can only push my luck so far.

“Enough! If you want to-.”

I push it further.

“Oh shut up! You’re just pissed about the situation because you probably haven’t gotten any yourself in years!”

Shit. Did I really just say that? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I’m really not helping my case here at all.

Sat opposite me on the couch, my parent’s mouths form a perfect ‘O.’

Then Mom breaks the tension, starting to laugh loudly, favorite wine glass still clutched in her hand.

“She got you good there, David! You have to admit!”

Dad blinks slowly a couple of times, then looks back and fourth between the two of us, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You will respect me while you’re under my roof, young lady!”

Oh here we go.

“And I won’t tolerate you speaking to me like that!”

Apparently Mom can speak to you however she likes though.

Don’t worry, Dad, soon you won’t have to worry about me being under your roof anymore, or even speaking to me ever again.

“Are you even listening to me?”

I stare at him blankly in response.

I know I’m being a pain in the ass to deal with, but I truly can’t seem to help it, especially after the news I just received.

“Do you understand, Lucy?!”

I understand that you should go suck a dick and mind your own business.

“Yes, Sir,” I reply with a smile that has all the authenticity of a playboy bunny’s chest.

“Understood.”

God, maybe Eric was right after all. When he’d initially proposed the idea I had thought that he was joking.

He wasn’t.

I had dismissed the plan completely, right off the bat when he’d suggested it.

It was just too outrageous, too risky and I couldn’t imagine the two of us actually going through with it, not in a thousand years.

But if we did and by some miracle managed to execute everything perfectly...

It would be incredible.

And somehow, knowing this, I had relented in the end.

Mom eyes me sympathetically as I sit across from her in the large, overstuffed armchair by the fire.

Only half of me is here now, or at least that’s how it feels. My mind is a thousand miles away.

“Oh Lucy, you look so sad, cupcake.”

Mom brings the glass back to her lips, taking in another mouthful of the blood red liquid.

“David, maybe we should just let them see each other. They’re just kids. You remember what we were like at that age.”

Woah! Nice one, Mom!

“Have you lost your damn mind, woman?!”

“Yeah, when I married you! Now shut up and listen to me, I have something to say!”

Dad continues to frown at her, but I have to fight the urge to smile.

“Eric was the only one who noticed that I got my hair done two weeks ago. Neither one of you ingratiates said a word about it!”

That makes me laugh, Dad however now looks like he wants to tear his hair out in frustration with the two of us.

“What the hell does that have to do with anything, Bev?!”

“Eric is a good kid, David, that’s all, you said so yourself! Lucy could do a lot worse!”

I’m slightly taken aback at Mom’s sudden change of heart. What the fuck happened to her wanting me to get back with Scott?

Is this because his Mom told her she couldn’t go to that dumb flower show in Englewood with her this Saturday? Is she really that petty?

Maybe drunk Mom actually likes Eric, or is this just some childish ploy to piss Dad off?

Either way, it’s nice to have someone, even a drunk someone, in my corner.

“And if Eric ever wants to stay over we can always-.”

“Stay over?!”

Dad’s eyes look like they’re about to pop right out of his head.

“In my house?! With my daughter?! That’s not happening, Beverly!”

Ah, that’s where she’s going with this.

Mom sighs, shrugging her shoulders, the picture of innocence.

“It’s not going to be your house for much longer though, is it, David? And if Lucy wants to stay here with me when you move, I don’t see why Eric can’t sleep over whenever he wants.”

Dad looks like he’s about to have an aneurism.

“Lucy is coming to New York with me! Aren’t you, Lucy?!”

“I... I...I....”

“Lucy can do what she wants,” Mom interjects.

“She’ll be eighteen in a few months and her whole life is here, there’s no point uprooting her from everything she’s ever known just for your benefit!”

“It’s not for my benefit!” he argues, progressively getting more and more irritated by the second.

“There’s one of the best art schools in the country out there! An added benefit is that it’ll get her away from your poisonous influence!”

These people are driving me utterly batshit and as much as I love them, I no longer want any part of this mess in the slightest.

Mom rolls her eyes, a habit I’ve no doubt inherited from her, but otherwise ignores him.

“I told Kathy we’d have her and Wayne over for dinner tomorrow night.”

She rises from the couch, smoothing down the front of her skirt.

My Dad, a hardened veteran of the police force, looks mildly horrified.

“You did what?!”

“They’re bringing Eric along as well, of course,” she adds.

Another quick sip.

Dad is beyond himself.

“Do you have any idea how uncomfortable that dinner is going to be after that phone call?!”

“Maybe for you, but this isn’t about you, David. I think we should be mature about this and hash things out with them.”

My jaw very nearly touches the hardwood floor beneath us.

Who is this woman and what the hell has she done with my Mother?

“Besides, Kathy said Eric is terribly upset about not being able to see Lucy.”

And you actually care? Holy shit, has hell itself frozen over?

I can’t believe Mom is now the voice of reason.

“What’s your angle here, Beverly?” Dad asks, eyeing her suspiciously.

I was just wondering the same thing.

“I don’t have an angle you son of a bitch!”

Mom’s expression is one of pure disgust.

“We can’t stop the two of them from seeing each other. It’s better that we just sit down with Eric’s parents and talk all of this out.”

Dad sighs, reluctantly nodding his head.

“Alright, fine, I suppose you’re right. We should probably meet and hash all of this out, maybe establish some sort of boundaries and ground rules for the kids.”

Yeah, good luck with that one, old man.

“Good.”

Mom smiles at him, likely for the first time in weeks.

“Oh, and I’ll need to borrow your car this Saturday so I can go to that flower show I was telling you about.”

Really? This again? You’re about to get divorced, woman! One of your kids might be moving across the country and you’re biggest concern is a damn flower show?

“I thought you couldn’t find anyone to go with?” Dad replies, furrowing his brow as he stares up at her.

“Kathy said she’d come with me,” she happily informs him.

So that’s why this dinner is happening.

Jesus, poor Kathy.

She probably doesn’t know a damn thing about “Sangria Saturday.”

I guess we know who’ll be driving.

Sat on my bed, staring at the clock on my bedside dresser, I bite down nervously on my lower lip, only realizing that it’s bleeding when I notice the slightly metallic taste in my mouth.

5:55p.m.

I should probably head downstairs now, just in case he calls early.

I can’t risk either one of my prison guards answering.

We technically aren’t supposed to be speaking to each other, not until our parents have had what will no doubt be a painfully awkward introduction.

Eric and I had agreed that both sets of parents were being ridiculous.

They just want to control us, to exert what little power they do have and to prove that they and only they, get to call the shots, that they’re always the ones in charge. 

Well, not anymore.

The whole idea of trying to keep us apart seems ludicrous as well as being a completely fruitless task.

I pick the phone up after the first ring.

“Hey Sarah, how are you doing?”

I’m sure to ask the question loudly, a little paranoia immediately seeping in.

“You and Jason getting along okay since you moved back in?”

“Hey Lucy, I’m fine, thanks. I was just calling to tell you how incredibly handsome I think that boyfriend of yours is.”

“You were, huh?” I ask, already grinning helplessly, clutching the phone against my ear.

“Oh yeah, that Eric Harris is one good looking motherfucker if I ever saw one. He’s just so handsome, so rugged and manly, wouldn’t you agree?”

God, I miss you.

I know I may have only seen you a few short hours ago, but we haven’t spent any real time together in far too long.

And it feels like I’m missing a fucking limb.

“Meh,” I shrug my shoulders, momentarily forgetting he can’t see actually see me.

“He’s alright, I guess, if you’re into that kind of thing.”

“Oh shut up, I know for a fact that you are very much into this kind of thing, so don’t even try to bullshit me, Peters!”

Absentmindedly wrapping the telephone cord around my finger, I start to laugh, leaning up against the wall in the hallway.

“I hate this not being able to see each other shit, Lucy. I’m glad I still get to see you at school and all, but it’s not enough.”

I know. It’s not enough for me either. Not even close.

He sighs into the phone.

“You should be over at my house right now, getting fondled in my bedroom while we pretend that we’re doing homework.”

That makes me laugh again.

“How are things at home?” he asks. 

I take a moment to consider the question before replying.

“I wish I could say it was all sunshine and rainbows at the Peters household, but honestly it feels like the other two are deliberately trying to drive me insane at this point.”

“What about you?”

“I’m hanging in there, just missing you like hell is all.”

As soon as he says it I feel the sudden urge to start crying, if just to release the overwhelming whirlwind of longing and frustration swirling inside me.

The feeling is almost palpable, nearly a real tangible thing, bubbling just beneath the surface of my skin.

I suppress the urge to blubber like a baby, not wanting him to realize how weak and fragile I actually am where he’s concerned.

“I think Mom feels bad about calling your folks after how they took the news that...” his voice trails off. 

“That you were tapping this ass?” I suggest. 

He starts to laugh and the sound is enough to lift my spirits significantly.

“That’s not how they put it exactly, but sure, that’s basically what I meant.” 

“She knows how miserable I am not being able to see you. I think that’s why she agreed to go to that stupid flower festival or whatever the fuck, with your Mom.”

”Dad told her she overreacted, he actually seemed kind of amused by the whole thing.”

“At least someone got some entertainment out of it,” I reply somewhat bitterly, glancing back over my shoulder, making sure neither one of my captors is eavesdropping.

“You know, my parents are actually talking about making me go to church. Can you imagine me having to sit through that shit?” 

Eric laughs loudly down the other end of the phone. 

“Okay, I’ll admit it, that cheered me up a little. Maybe they’re right though, Lucy. Maybe you do need Jesus in your life.”

“The only man I need in my life is you.”

“Well, I’m the only one you should be getting down on your knees for anyway.”

I feel myself starting to blush.

“You’re awful, do you know that?”

“I’m sorry, I haven’t seen you outside of school in almost two weeks. I’m going a little crazy.”

“So am I,” I admit. “I can’t believe how hard it is.”

“My sentiments exactly and let me tell you, my right hand is tired as hell.”

“You’re a pervert.”

“Careful, you’re supposed to be talking to Sarah, remember?”

“Oh, I know, she fits into that category too.”

“Finally something you two have in common, huh?”

“How dare you, I’m as pure as the driven snow, you dick.”

“Ah yes,” he agrees with a laugh. “The little angel on my shoulder, but I’m doing a good job of corrupting you, Lucy, slowly but surely.”

Maybe he is. 

”Hey, do you think you could call me back later in the middle of the night when they’re both asleep and-.”

“No,” I lower my voice, continuing to laugh into the receiver.

“I’m not having my Dad come downstairs for a glass of water at four in the morning to catch me talking dirty to you on the phone.”

“Alright, fine, you damn prude!”

“I guess I’ll just have to rely on all my beautiful memories to sustain me, like the time we were in my room and I handcuffed you to the bed and-.”

Oh fuck, please don’t start talking about that. Are you trying to drive me crazy?

I need to change the subject. I glance around the room yet again, making sure the coast is clear.

“Can you imagine how awkward that dinner with our parents tomorrow night is going to be?”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me, Lucy.”

I roll my eyes, still smiling like an idiot.

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are, but don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, besides even if it’s not, you’re not gonna have to worry about them much longer anyway, are you?”

As gung-ho as I was about the idea earlier, I’m suddenly conflicted once again.

“True, but I’m not sure I can actually-.”

“Please don’t bitch out on me now, Lucy. We’re so fucking close I can almost taste it.”

“I know, but I just-.”

“Don’t you wanna be free? Don’t you wanna be with me forever?”

I look around again.

“Of course I do, you fool.”

“Good, but we need to stick to the plan then, alright?”

“Okay,” I nod my head, again forgetting he can’t see me.

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”

“No, absolutely not. I can do it, don’t worry.”

“Good girl. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

“Alright,” I reply. “I love you.”

“If you really loved me you’d swallow...”

“Jesus fucking Christ!”

He laughs into the receiver and it feels like my heart is being ripped from my chest, just from not being able to hear it in person.

“Just hang in there a little bit longer,” he says. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be counting down the seconds.”

“So will I.”

“Oh, and Lucy?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you too.”

I stay there, phone in hand, leaning up against the wall for a very long time after we hang up.

Don’t you wanna be free?

Don’t you wanna be with me forever?

I’ve never wanted anything as badly in this whole entire world.

The next night, Eric and his parents arrive at our house for dinner, just after six.

His Dad and mine shake hands by the door as our Moms begin exchanging basic pleasantries.

Eric’s eyes immediately lock with my own as soon as my Mother opens the door, greeting the three Harris’ with in an exaggeratedly chipper tone of voice.

He smiles, holding his arms up awkwardly as he steps insides, as though not sure if a hug would be entirely appropriate or not.

“Come here, you idiot!”

I throw my arms around him, burying my face in his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

He chuckles softly, wrapping his arms around me as I breath in the comforting, familiar scent of him.

“I missed you too, Lucy goosey.”

The six of us sit down at the table and thankfully the initial awkwardness is soon replaced by steady and pleasant conversation.

“So, Wayne, Eric tells us you’re a sea-captain or something?”

Mom slurs her words ever so slightly.

Eric and I look at each other from across the table, barely managing to stifle our laughter.

“I was with the air-force for twenty years, Beverly,” Wayne corrects her with good humor and a slightly amused smile, strikingly reminiscent of Eric’s.

“I do love the ocean though. Maybe I was a sea-captain in another life.”

Kathy’s smile is kind, but her eyebrows raise a little higher when Mom picks the bottle up from the table, topping up her wine glass yet again. 

No doubt very much looking forward to the prospect of spending this coming Saturday with her.

As the night progresses, dinner turns to dessert and Dad slowly begins to let his guard down.

Soon him and Eric’s Dad are getting along famously, sat side by side, drinking scotch, laughing loudly and exchanging “old war stories” from Dad’s time on the force and Wayne’s long stint in the military.

Kathy nods politely as my Mom drunkenly talks her ear off, but I can’t help noticing her jaw dropping every so often as she listens to her speak.

Eric catches my eye from across the table and nods his head towards the door.

“Hey, Eric and I are going to go upstairs for a while to listen to some music, is that okay?”

I didn’t think he was even listening, but Dad pauses, mid-conversation, turning to look at us.

“The bedroom door stays open!”

Upstairs, Eric and I stop in the hall just outside my parent’s bedroom. He stands in front of me, a hand pressed up against the wall at either side.

“We need to do this, Lucy.”

“I know we do. They’re both driving me insane and you’re the only fucking thing that makes any sense to me anymore.”

“I feel the exact same way. I need to get the hell out of Colorado before I fucking explode, this place is screwing with my head big time. I think a fresh start would do us both the world of good.”

“Where are we going to go, Eric?”

“Anywhere. Everywhere. I really don’t give a fuck, as long as I’m with you.”

He kisses me, hard and deep and passionately, pressing me up against the wall, pinning my body there with his own.

He kisses me until my knees have turned to jelly, until I’m dizzy with desire, until any and all doubts I could possibly possess are eradicated completely.

Then he starts to tickle me.

“Stop it!” I laugh, half-heartedly struggling to escape his grasp.

“Let me go, you asshole!”

“Never!” he cries, continuing the assault of tickles, despite my protests.

“I’ll punch you, Eric!” I warn him.

“Do it! Punch me! Come on, Peters, show me what you got!”

We make our way into my parent’s room, where I lead him over towards the safe.

“You know the combo, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” I reply, nodding my head. “It’s my birthday.”

From where he’s stood behind me, he wraps his arms around my waist, resting his head on my shoulder as he stares ahead at the safe.

“Don’t worry, Lucy, you said it yourself; he’ll be at work all night. We’ll have it back where it belongs before he suspects a fucking thing.”

His right hand drops down from my waist to my hip, then slides between my legs, where he starts to rub through the thin material of my pants.

“Eric...”

His name is little more than a whisper as it leaves my lips.

“Yes, Lucy?” he says softly. I can practically hear the smile in his voice as he continues to work on me with his fingers.

“Please don’t tease me...” 

“I don’t wanna tease you...”

“I wanna throw you down on this bed and fuck you so hard you’ll need a wheelchair when we finally do make our escape.”

I don’t know if he intends for the comment to be sexy or funny, but I find myself erupting into laughter anyway as I turn around to face him.

“Even with our parents just downstairs?”

He smiles at me, eyes alight with mischief.

“Even so, Lucy goosey.”

It takes all of my resolve not to push him down on the bed and climb on top of him, parents and consequences be damned.

Sometimes I find myself craving him so deeply it produces an almost physical ache in me. Now is very much one of those times.

Frustratingly however, we’re just going to have to wait.

“You know, Eric, it wouldn’t be me who needed that wheelchair if my Dad walked in on us...”

By the end of the night our parents end up reaching a compromise, my own now agreeing to let me see Eric on the weekends.

It’s not enough to change our minds though, both of us still deeply resenting the fact that they tried to keep us apart at all.

Faster than I would have thought possible; Friday night rolls around. Conveniently for me, Dad is meant to be pulling an all-nighter down at the station.

It’s hard to believe this is real, that this is actually happening.

That tonight we will be taking our first crucial step towards freedom, towards a new life together, glorious and ripe with possibility.

I’m sure to be as quiet as is humanly possible as I make my way into my parent’s bedroom.

My heart starts to beat a little faster as I enter the combination and take the handgun from the safe.

I make sure the safety is on before carefully tucking it away in the bottom of my overnight bag.

Ready to go, bag packed, I inform my mother that I’m leaving, having already established the cover story of staying over at Sarah’s place for the night.

It’s starting to get dark now, the occasional faint star appearing across the multicolored sky. 

Beneath a streetlight, sat on the curb just down the street from my house, I light up a cigarette in a feeble attempt to calm my frazzled nerves.

I feel a little guilty for doing this already, but then I think of him and all doubts and reservations are quickly cast from my mind.

Unable to be without her; Orpheus marched right into the fiery depths of Hades to retrieve his lover from the underworld.

And I know with an almost painful certainty, that I would gladly walk through all seven circles of hell just to be with him.

Eric soon pulls up next to me. I throw my bag into the back and climb into the passenger seat next to him.

He greets me with a smile and a quick kiss before driving off.

“Did you get it?”

“Of course I did.”

“Are you nervous?”

“Of course I am.”

“Me too,” he admits.

“I know we can pull this off though, Kevin worked there part-time last Summer and I know for a fact none of their cameras actually work.”

Rammstein once again dominates the radio as we drive, both of us far quieter than usual on the journey there.

My stomach is in knots, mind racing like a cocaine-fueled hamster on a wheel, and far too quickly, we’re parked down the street from the store in question.

I unbuckle my seatbelt and climb into the back, retrieving the firearm from the bottom of my bag and handing it up to toward the front.

Grinning like the Cheshire Cat, he takes it from me, turning the gun around in his hand, carefully examining it.

“How do you feel?” he asks, still staring down at the gun intently.

“A little scared.”

“Don’t be, Lucy.”

He glances up at me where I’m now sat next to my bag in the back, smiling as he gives the gun a little wave.

“We have all the courage we need right here.”

I climb back up into the front as he produces two ski-masks from the glove compartment.

He hands one to me as I settle back into my seat.

I take it and we sit there in the darkness of his car, wordlessly staring at one another for several long moments.

“You ready?”

Fuck no, not by a long shot.

“Yes.”

“Quick kiss for luck?”

We lean over in our seats and I close my eyes as lips press softly against lips.

“I love you,” I tell him, reluctantly taking my mouth from his.

“No matter what happens, I just want you to know that.”

“I love you too.”

Fingertips trail delicately down the side of my face and my breath seems to catch in my throat as his eyes stare into my own.

It’s that look that does it, makes the world shift on its axis. A look that is loving, but almost painfully intense. 

“Now let’s go rob this fucking place.”

The area isn’t entirely familiar to me. We’ve driven quite far out from Littleton to reach the small, out of the way convenience store.

Luckily, the streets surrounding it are mostly deserted, the last thing we need are a bunch of witnesses.

A final kiss is exchanged, then we pull our ski-masks on and climb out of the car.

Am I dreaming, or is this real life?

It’s hard to tell.

Who would have thought that night at the party, all those weeks ago, that things would have turned out like this?

That I would end up here with that strange, handsome boy in the Rammstein shirt who I’d caught staring at me from across the room.

Here, armed, desperate, madly in love; possibly quite literally, and ready to do something my brain can’t even truly begin to process.

Gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans, he takes my hand in his and leads me down the street.

Maybe this is a dream.

Along the short walk, my heart is beating like a jackhammer, almost threatening to burst forward from my chest.

I feel myself shaking like a leaf.

Eric in stark contrast seems cool as a fucking cucumber, so calm and composed you’d swear he’d done this a thousand times before.

A tall man who looks to be in his mid-thirties is stood alone behind the counter when we enter.

There’s no turning back now, even if we wanted to.

The cashier glances up, eyes growing wide as he spots us by the door.

“Oh fuck.”

Eric strides quickly and confidently over towards the counter, smoothly pulling the gun from the waistband of his pants as I follow along behind him.

The guy must have seen the gun already, his hands immediately lifting into the air, above his head.

“Look, I don’t want any trouble, alright?!”

I feel a strange mixture of emotion as Eric proceeds to lift the gun upward, pointing it directly at the man’s face.

“I don’t give a damn what you want! Just empty the fucking register, now!”

“Okay! Okay!”

The frightened man’s hands are visibly shaking as he fumbles with the buttons of the register.

“I can’t... I can’t...”

“Can’t what, asshole?” Eric demands.

“Can’t wait to be shot, is that it?”

“No! Please don’t! I can’t open the resister unless you make a purchase!”

Is he serious?

I know it’s probably hard to think clearly with a gun pointed at your head, but have some fucking sense, man.

I find myself quickly growing just as impatient as Eric, knowing time is of the essence, knowing that we need to get this over with and get the fuck out of here as soon as possible.

“Just put something in!” I shout, voice shaking ever so slightly as I do so. “Anything!”

“And give us the fucking money already!”

He looks at me as though he’s just about soiled himself and for some reason I can’t help adding another word to my demand.

“Please!”

Eric turns to look at me, the only part of his face I can see with the ski-mask on is his eyes as he rolls them at me.

He looks back toward the now very traumatized looking man behind the counter.

“You heard her! Just open the fucking register! Now!” Eric screams, almost making me leap out of my skin. 

He pulls a bag from the pocket of his jacket with his other hand and tosses it carelessly onto the counter.

“And put the money in the goddamn bag!”

The whole encounter lasts less than ten minutes, but it feels like hours are slowly ticking by.

“Give us the fucking money already, please!” Eric poorly imitates me, gripping the steering wheel in one hand and a cigarette in the other as he drives.

His loud and lovely laughter fills the car.

“God, I fucking love you, Lucy.”

“Some of us actually have manners, Eric.”

“Yeah, I’m sure the guy really appreciated how polite you were while I pointed a gun at his fucking head.”

He takes his eyes briefly from the road, looking over at me with a grin.

“I’m pretty sure the dude pissed all over the floor.” 

“All the more reason to be nice to him.” 

My heart is still pounding erratically in my chest even though by now we’re at least a few miles away.

“Forget him, how do you feel?”

“A little guilty.”

“Fuck feeling guilty. Guilt doesn’t even really exist. It’s a man-made construct just like good and evil. They only exist to stop us from following our natural instincts.” 

“You don’t believe in the concept of good and evil?”

“Nobody is all black or all white, Lucy. There’s a multitude of shades of grey in between. I think everyone has the capacity for both to exist inside them,” eyes still fixed on the road, he takes another drag, then continues.

“Which one they chose to act on depends entirely on their own unique set of circumstances, but good and evil, that’s all relative to the observer.” 

He passes the cigarette over to me and quickly lights up another for himself.

I accept it gratefully, taking a deep drag before asking him the same question.

“How do you feel about what we just did then?”

“I think it was a hell of a lot more fun than my typical Friday night,” he replies. 

Eric takes a deep drag, then another. As cool, calm and collected as he’s acted so far, I’m certain the situation was just as intense and stressful for him as it was for me.

“It sure beats playing Doom and jacking off until the early hours of the morning at least.”

“And you don’t feel bad at all?”

“No,” he shrugs, glancing back over at me. “Not really. I am kind of pissed we only managed to get a couple of hundred bucks though.”

So am I.

This was meant to set us up, provide something of a nest-egg to begin our lives anew, somewhere far, far away from here.

We decide we’ll have to wait a little bit longer, just long enough to scrounge up enough money to feel confident about doing this.

Eric’s car begins to make a series of loud, worrying noises as we drive, until finally we’re forced to pull over on the side of the road.

He tries several times to get the car started again, to no avail. 

“Fuck!”

He slams a fist down hard on the steering wheel.

“Are you shitting me right now?!”

Neither one of us posses any mechanical skills whatsoever, so we end up having to leave the car there, wandering off down the road together on foot. 

Eric brings along the flashlight he has in the glove compartment with us, using it to illuminate our long and slow journey along the highway. 

Cars zoom by every so often, flying past us, and several times I find myself incredibly thankful he happened to have it.

We look up at the clear, night sky occasionally as we walk, finding ourselves lost in conversation about the future, the past and everything in between.

The sky is as bright, beautiful and full of stars as it had been the night we met.

And even though we’ve now found ourselves up shit creek without a paddle, it’s hard not to admire the breathtaking beauty of the cosmos above us.

“We’re not lost, are we?” I finally ask, after what feels like an eternity of walking.

“I think we both were, that’s why I’m so fucking thankful that we found each other.”

I certainly wasn’t expecting that response, but it is undoubtedly touching all the same.

“That’s really sweet and all, Eric, but I meant in the literal sense.”

“No, I think I have a rough idea of where we’re going.”

“Rough? That doesn’t sound too good.”

“Come on, Lucy,” he chuckles. “I know you like it rough.”

“Don’t make me push you in front of the next car that comes along, Harris. I’ll fucking do it.” 

The light of the torch begins to flicker on and off.

“Oh fuck.”

Then it dies completely.

“Fuck, fuckity, fuck, fuck!

“Shit, Lucy, we’re probably gonna end up being creamed by a fucking car walking along in the dark like this with zero visibility!”

“Your optimism is really helping the situation, Eric,” I reply with a roll of my eyes. 

One of my favorite Smiths’ songs comes to mind, a certain lyric in particular and I start to sing it as we continue along the road.

“And if a double-decker bus crashes into us, to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die...” 

“I appreciate the romantic sentiment and all, Lucy, but I don’t exactly relish the idea of us being hit by a damn bus, double-decker or otherwise.”

Much to our relief, we eventually spot a couple of small buildings in the distance, thankfully having made it this far without being mowed down in the road.

“Yes!” he cheers, pumping a fist in the air.

“Halle-fucking-lujah!”

I can’t help laughing at him.

We approach what turns out to be a small strip mall, trying each door in turn to find, unfortunately, they’re all locked up for the night.

“Well, shit!” he exclaims, frowning deeply as he tries and fails to open the final door.

“I’m all out of ideas. What the hell do we do now?”

“I have no fucking idea.”

“Shit! Shit! Shit!”

Eric kicks the door in his frustration.

“First my damn car craps out on us and now we’re deserted here and there’s nowhere even fucking open!”

He looks at me and his expression changes, annoyance seeming to give way quickly to regret.

“Lucy, I’m so fucking sorry about all of this. I never should have talked you into it.”

”You don’t have to apologize, Eric. You didn’t exactly have to drag me along kicking and screaming, now did you?”

”Well, no, but it’s still my damn fault that we’re out here. Now I’m gonna have to find a pay phone and piss away whatever money we did get having my car fixed and-.” 

As dire as the situation may be, he looks so adorable as he worriedly rambles that I’m completely unable to stop myself.

I push him up against the door he just kicked.

He raises an eyebrow at me in silent question.

My response is to plant one on him, lips colliding in the deserted parking lot of the dimly lit strip mall we now find ourselves occupying.

Arms coil around me, lips part and his tongue finds and begins to fight for dominance with my own.

I would have thought the long walk down the highway would have helped some of the adrenaline wear off, but it hasn’t, not entirely at least.

Eager, loving hands roam my body, groping and caressing, then he turns us around, switching our positions so it’s me who’s now pressed up against the door of the shitty chain-restaurant.

Closing my eyes, I try my best to focus completely on this moment, totally on him, trying my best to encapsulate it in my mind.

I had intended for the kiss to be more tender than sensual, but as the kissing progresses we soon find ourselves getting worked up all over again.

Hands slide beneath one another’s clothes and we kiss with a desperate urgency, an almost primal hunger as we stumble through the dirty alleyway that runs along the side of the strip mall.

The alley, no doubt a bit of an eyesore by day, is now bathed in the soft glow of moonlight.

Walking through it, hand in hand with him, it might as well be a room at the fucking Hilton for as far as we’re concerned.

Both he and the sky above us are beautiful, intoxicating beyond all reason, beyond all earthly measure. More than making up for the less than romantic location.

Eric’s mouth finds my neck and I no longer even know the meaning of the word restraint.

He gives me one long, last lingering kiss before spinning me around, pushing me up against the wall of graffiti covered bricks in front of me.

“Bend over a little.”

I do as he asks before my skirt is promptly lifted upward, the material pushed up somewhere around my waist. His fingers grip my hips possessively, pulling them back against his own.

Feeling him pressed against me, eager and ready as I am. A low, throaty groan escapes his lips, then my underwear is hastily pulled down.

I hear the sound of him unbuckling his belt, then the sound of a zipper hurriedly being pulled down. 

He makes a sound almost like a whimper as he enters me, then the air is filled with the repetitive sound of skin on skin contact combined with copious grunts and groans. 

The act is rough, animalistic, but incredibly satisfying, the previous excitement of the night only adding to the experience.

It starts to rain, staring out as a light drizzle and slowly building to a heavier downpour. 

It’s then that we hear police sirens in the distance.

“Oh fuck, the pigs are coming,” Eric pants, breathlessly, hands still gripping my hips.

“And so am I..” 

A burst of involuntary laughter falls from my lips, he starts to laugh too, but as he continues to thrust the laughter soon gives way, turning back into a symphony of moans and groans.

Rain continues to fall, I finish first, then him, little droplets of water planting tiny kisses on feverishly hot skin.

Satisfied and happy smiles adorn our faces as we bring our mouths together, then soft exchanges of “I love you” are muttered against one another’s lips.

He pulls his jeans back up, redoing the zipper.

“Fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard in my life.” 

Eric props himself up against the wall with a hand, still fighting to catch his breath.

“I think you’re gonna have to carry my ass after that one, Lucy.” 

Not knowing what else to do, we continue on foot down the road, soon coming across a very shady looking motel. 

“This place looks a little sleazy, Eric,” I tell him, eyeing the building with a small grimace.

Two letters on the large neon sign that reads ‘Vacancies available!’ flicker on and off in rapid succession.

“I bet this place is crawling with roaches and bedbugs.” 

“I’m sorry it’s not the Four fucking Seasons, princess.”

I roll my eyes at him. 

”I don’t need the Four Seasons, Eric, I need somewhere that doesn’t look like a serial killer’s dream location for taking a poor unsuspecting prostitute.” 

“So damned spoiled!” 

He starts to laugh, shaking his head at me.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, Lucy, and after that little Bonnie and Clyde routine we just pulled, it’s probably better that we find somewhere to hold up for the night as quickly as possible.”

”Fine, but if we end up getting murdered in the middle of the night my ghost is never going to let yours hear the end of it.” 

“Fair enough,” he laughs. “I guess you’ve got to suck it up and pretend to be just another poor unsuspecting prostitute until then, huh?” 

Eric opens the front door of the dingy motel, the bell above it ringing as he gestures for me to walk in ahead of him.

At the front counter we’re met with a shaggy-haired young man wearing glasses, quietly swearing to himself as he fumbles with the gameboy in his hands.

A small television sat atop the counter is playing what sounds like the latest episode of Friends.

Eric and I stand there waiting for him to direct his attention to us, instead his eyes dart up to the screen, his mouth falling open.

“Jesus Christ, Rachel! You and Ross were on a fucking break! Get over it already! Fuck!”

Eric clears his throat loudly.

The young man behind the counter reluctantly manages to tear his eyes from the no doubt riveting drama unfolding in front of him.

“What?” he demands. “What do you want?”

“Damn, is that how you greet all your guests?”

Eric scowls a little, reaching into his pocket and producing his wallet.

“Whatever happened to showing a little hospitality?”

“I’m sorry, man,” he apologizes, placing his gameboy atop the counter.

“This episode has just got me a little heated is all.”

“Hey, do you think Ross and Rachel are going to get back together?”

“Totally, dude, of course,” Eric tells him.

I can’t help smiling, knowing damn well he’s never sat through a full episode in his life.

“Cash okay?”

“Oh, right!” the less than professional desk-clerk chuckles.

“You two need a room, huh?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

“Cash is fine, got any I.D. on you, my man?”

“Of course,” Eric smiles back, retrieving a card from his wallet and handing it over to him.

The young man eyes the card in front of him, then Eric, then the card again, before passing it back.

“Okay, everything seems to be in order, Mr. McVeigh. Just sign in for me and I’ll go grab you yo-.”

He pauses, looking back and fourth between Eric and I a couple of times.

“Hey, how old are you two?”

Eric doesn’t miss a beat.

“I’m a hundred,” he says smoothly, pulling a crisp hundred dollar bill from his wallet and sliding it across the counter.

The clerk raises his eyebrows, but then the money disappears, a guest registry book being laid down in its place.

“Well, shit, man, you do look good for your age!” he laughs. “Let me just go grab that room key for you.”

The clerk rises to his feet, heading toward a numbered board with a series of keys hanging from it at the back.

Eric opens the book in front of him, flips to the last page and starts to scribble down his “name.”

“McVeigh?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

He glances up at me, mischievous grin in full force yet again.

“I’m gonna put your name down as Alotta Fagina,” he informs me.

“You watched Austin Powers!” 

“Of course I did.”

He smiles down at the paper as he continues to scribble down our aliases.

“You wouldn’t stop raving about it so I had to check it out.”

He starts to laugh as he flips the book closed, sliding it back across the counter. 

“All I kept thinking after I watched it was I want my baby back, baby back, baby back... ribs.”

“You didn’t really put that down as my name, did you?”

He smirks at me, wordlessly, nodding his head.

“Then you won’t be getting Alotta Fagina tonight or any other night.” 

“Hey!”

He throws his hands up defensively, continuing to laugh.

“I needed to do it, Lucy.” 

He pauses to lick his lips, then looks back over at the clerk behind the counter.

“Your Dad is a damn cop. If he does come home unexpectedly tonight and finds you and... “

He lowers his voice significantly.

“...that other thing gone, he might come looking for us.”

“I guess you have a point, but I still don’t like that you put that down as my name. There’ll be no Fagina, alotta or otherwise in your foreseeable future.”

“You’re such a damn liar,” he laughs. “You couldn’t resist me if you tried.”

“You wanna bet?” I scoff.

“I do actually, because I know I’d win.”

“You would not.”

“Admit it, Lucy goosey, you’re putty in my damn hands.”

“Maybe a little.”

“A little?” he frowns, wrapping his hands around my waist, pressing his forehead against my own as we stand in the lobby of the seedy motel.

“Just a little?”

“Okay,” I sigh, arms draping over his shoulders, fingers linking behind his neck.

“Maybe Alotta.” 

We smile at one another, our lips meld together and once again the world shrinks down to nothing more than the two of us, this current moment.

Now the tables have turned and it’s the clerk’s turn to clear his throat in an order to get our attention.

“Here,” he says flatly, in a tone of voice that very much conveys he is now done with the situation. 

A long silver key is placed atop the counter.

“You two lovebirds are in room twelve. I’d show you to your room but you know,” he waves a hand towards the television.

“No problem, man,” Eric replies, picking up the key and sliding it into his pocket.

“I can see you have more urgent business to attend to. I think we can take it from here, thanks.”

Eric and I are almost out the door when, eyes still glued to the T.V. he adds;

“And try to keep the noise level to a minimum, please. The last thing I need is complaints from the other guests about having to listen to you two hump like bunnies through the wall!” 

We’re still laughing as we ascend the steps outside, leading us up to the second floor of the motel where room twelve is located.

“I guess this it it,” I announce as we arrive outside the door.

“No shit,” he replies, retrieving the key from his pocket and sliding it into the lock.

He turns it and the door opens with a small click.

“What gave it away, the giant number twelve on the door?”

My response is an eye-roll and a weak slap to the arm.

“Fuck you, Eric.”

“Now there’s an idea.”

Raising a foot, he suddenly kicks the door, sending it flying open.

I look at him, wide-eyed in surprise.

He continues to smile as he bends down, then my feet are lifted from the ground below before dangling in the air with the rest of me.

Pressed against his chest, he holds me in his arms, my own draping around his shoulders as he enters the room, carrying me bridal style.

The small room on the second floor that we’re occupying for the night is all seventies decor, shag carpeting and a different bold, geometric pattern on every wall.

Then there’s the pièce de résistance, Eric’s favorite thing about the room; A large mirror on the ceiling, right above the bed.

I take a quick shower in the adjoining bathroom, leaving a tired looking Eric sprawled out on the bed, fighting off yawns as he channel surfs.

The hot water is incredibly soothing, doing wonders to release the tension from my muscles after what has turned out to be one hell of a day.

My heart almost leaps out of my chest when I turn to grab the shampoo bottle and see the shadow of a figure behind the shower curtain.

I fully expect Eric to be asleep when I step back into the bedroom, he instead, in a scene reminiscent of the movie Psycho, decides to surprise me in the shower.

He stands there for a moment or two behind the curtain, unmoving, just long enough to scare the everliving shit out of me.

Maybe it’s not Eric. What if somebody came into our room and I didn’t hear them over the sound of the water?

The curtain is ripped back and Eric is stood there, clad in just his boxers.

His eyes scan me up and down a few times as I stand there beneath the water, gaping at him.

“Jesus Christ, Eric, I thought it was fucking Norman Bates!”

He starts to laugh, pulling his boxers down.

“We all go a little mad sometimes, Lucy.”

Eric steps into the shower beside me.

”I thought I’d be nice and offer to wash your hair for you.”

Then pulls the curtain closed behind him.

Hours later, laying in the dark, next to one another in bed, my head rests on his chest while we watch a movie neither of us has seen before, ‘Heathers.’ 

“I’m not sure I’d be as strong as Winona Ryder’s character is in this movie,” I joke. “I mean, what girl could say no Christian Slater in that situation?” 

“Oh yeah?”

I expect him to make a comment about him being “just another dumb pretty boy like Brad Pitt” or to ask what Slater has that he doesn’t.

He says neither of these things.

“You would have helped him blow up the school then?” 

I can’t see his face, still laying on his chest, but his voice sounds weird.

I look up at him and his expression is neutral.

“Well no, of course I wouldn’t, but it’d break my heart having to rat on Christian Slater’s fine ass, even if he did end up being a psychotic piece of shit in the end.”

I stare ahead at the T.V. screen in front of us, now airing some stupid commercial for detergent.

I’m far too tired to even attempt to look for the remote, lost somewhere in the mess of blankets.

“Psychotic piece of shit, huh?”

”Well, yeah, what else would you call him when you consider what he wanted to do?” 

“Don’t you think psychotic piece of shit is a little harsh? Maybe J.D. had good reasons to do what he wanted to do.”

“There’s hardly a good reason to try and blow people up.”

“Says you.”

My eyes keep closing on me now, almost of their own accord.

“I’m not sure I can stay awake much longer.”

“That’s okay, you get some sleep.”

He runs a hand up and down my back, planting a small kiss atop my head.

“I’ll be right here when you wake up, I promise.” 

But he’s not, I wake up, hours later, alone in the dark.

“Eric, are you in the bathroom?” I call out, tossing back the blankets and climbing from the bed.

I get no reply.

Fuck, where is he?

I turn on the bedside light, then cross the room, headed towards the window.

Peering through the darkness, I’m almost certain I can see the silver Honda prelude still parked out in the lot.

My eyes dart over to the small pool just off in the distance and I can just about make out a person sitting alone by the edge of it.

Even though there’s no way of knowing yet for certain, I’m sure that it’s him.

I don’t even realize I’m not wearing shoes or socks until I’m halfway down the steps.

Eric and I are soon reunited, poolside.

“What are you doing out here? It must be four in the morning.”

“It’s four twenty actually,” he says, glancing down at his watch, still having yet to look up at me.

“And what are you doing out here exactly? You look fucking exhausted, Eric.” 

“I couldn’t sleep. I just kept thinking.”

“About what?” I ask, slightly concerned by his tone of voice as I sit down next to him.

He silently stares down into the silvery water of the pool, where the reflection of the moon dances on the surface.

That’s when I notice his cheeks are damp with tears.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

He finally looks at me, eyes red from crying.

“I... sometimes I don’t even know... I just...”

Now I’m extremely concerned, I’ve never seen him cry before and I’m rendered so surprised for a second I’m not sure how to react.

We stare at one another, then Eric’s face crumbles, he starts to cry again, quickly turning away from me.

“God, you must think I’m such a fucking pussy.”

“No, don’t be ridiculous, of course I don’t, you’re allowed to cry if you feel like crying, there’s no need to be embarrassed.”

“That doesn’t make me feel like any less of a pussy,” he mutters.

“What’s wrong? Tell me.”

He hastily wipes at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt, then frowns at me, clearly reluctant to get the words out. 

“Sometimes it just feels likes everything is gone to shit, Lucy, like the whole fucking world is upside down. Right is left, green is blue, up is down and sometimes I’m not sure who I the hell I even am anymore...” 

The two of us sit there in silence for a few moments, staring at one another as we sit there by the edge of the pool, a beautiful, seemingly never-ending canvas of stars twinkling above our heads.

“But you and I, we actually make some fucking sense, somehow in all the shit and random chaos of this world, we found something that actually matters.” 

“Is that why you were crying? I thought maybe you didn’t want to do this anymore.”

He shakes his head vigorously, then wipes again at his eyes again. 

“No, I still wanna do this, trust me, that’s not why I’ve turned into a sappy little bitch all of a sudden.”

He manages a small, halfhearted laugh.

”Lucy...” 

He says my name quietly, eyes no longer meeting my own.

“Would you still love me if you found out I wasn’t a good person?” 

I’m more than a little taken aback by the question. 

“You are a good person, why are you even asking?” 

“I don’t know, I just...”

”What? If this is you feeling guilty about robbing that store then-.”

“No, I don’t give a shit about that,” he insists with a shake of his head.

”I just...”

He seems to be struggling to find the right words.

“I’m just so fucking grateful that we met. It really feels like life if giving me a second chance here. A real opportunity to be happy.”

I’m not sure what he means by a “second chance.” We haven’t even finished high school yet, our lives have barely even begun.

I take his hand in mine and give it a little squeeze.

“I’m grateful that we met too.”

His eyes dart up to meet my own again, a small soft smile donning his face.

“I’d be happy as a pig in shit just to be wherever you are,” he assures me.

“But I’d be lying if I said I won’t be elated when we finally put this godforsaken shithole in my rearview mirror for good.” 

“It won’t be much longer, Eric. I don’t care if I have to beg, borrow and steal, I’m going to get as much cash together as possible.”

”I do have a couple of hundred bucks saved up for a project Vodka and I were working on.”

”Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I don’t think it’ll be enough though, especially after having to shell out for my piece of shit car.” 

“We can use the phone in the lobby to call someone to come out and have a look at it in the morning. Then I’ll give Sarah a call and pray to God she’s willing to drive our sorry asses home.” 

I’m met with silence, attributing his somewhat strange behavior to how tired he must be. 

“Come on, you,” I tell him, rising to my feet with a slight groan. “We’ll worry about this mess after we get some sleep. Let’s head back to the room.” 

“I’m not tired,” he says quietly, staring ahead at the silvery water again.

“You go ahead, Lucy, I’ll follow you up in a while.”

“What if I help tire you out a little?” I offer.

Eric looks up then, lips curled into a smirk.

“Damn it, woman, you’ve convinced me.”

He rises to his feet, then takes my hand again as we make our way over towards the stairs that lead up to the second floor of the motel.

I stop right before we reach our door and he turns to look back at me.

“You coming?”

For some unknown reason, I’m suddenly overwhelmed by a desire to hug him. I throw my arms around his shoulders and holding onto him for dear life, bury my face once again in his chest.

He seems surprised for a second, but then his arms wrap around me as we stand by the railing that runs along the side of the second floor of the motel.

“What was that for?” he asks, smiling amusedly at me as we finally separate.

“Just because I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says, still looking slightly confused.

I kiss him softly on either cheek, then plant a small final one on his lips.

The sky above has already started to lighten and it won’t be long now until dawn.

“You know, you’re kind of like the Mickey to my Mallory.”

“Oh yeah?” he grins, looking more than a little pleased with the comparison. “How so?”

“Because for me, it’s you that makes everyday feel like kindergarten.”


	14. Early Dawning, Sunday Morning

Sunday truly is the Lord’s day and not just because my parents are forcing me to play along with their little charade by going to church with them.

Sunday means no school and more importantly, it means getting to hang out with Eric without the folks giving me too much shit about it.

They’ve spent their morning, thus far, confined to their bedroom, arguing about who’ll get what in the divorce, likely more loudly than they realize. 

I’m on the couch, still in my pajamas watching ‘Wayne’s World’ on VHS and gnawing on a slightly burnt piece of toast when there’s a knock on the front door.

Creeping out into the hall, I’m careful to avoid the floorboards I know will creak as I try to catch a glimpse of whoever it is through the glass panel of the door.

I can’t see them. They knock again and when that elicits no response, they call out;

“Hello, anybody there?”

Surprised to be hearing his voice this early, I hurry along the hallway, smiling like an idiot in my eagerness to greet him.

I can’t believe he actually showed up, I was convinced he was joking about coming along when we’d talked on the phone last night, yet here he is.

After opening the door, my surprise is only added to; he’s dressed for the occasion too. Eric looks the very definition of a clean-cut young man, hair neatly combed, wearing a blue button-up shirt, tan trousers and a pair of loafers.

“Oh wow! You look so handsome!”

“Thanks, Lucy,” he beams, taking the opportunity to eye me up and down. “You look like someone dragged you backwards through a ditch.”

He’s not entirely wrong and the comment provokes a laugh.

“Some guys tell their girlfriends that they’re beautiful, you know?”

“Wouldn’t you rather one who kept you humble?” he asks with a smirk.

I raise my eyebrows at him, pretending to be annoyed. He laughs in response, pushing gently past me into the hallway.

“You always look hot though, don’t get me wrong, I’d still hit that shit in any state.”

A dramatic sigh falls from my lips.

“That’s beautiful, Eric, is that another Shakespeare quote?” 

He laughs again, hands finding my waist as we stand by the door, successfully managing to ignore the persistent bickering coming from upstairs. 

“I’m just screwing around, Lucy goosey.”  
Eric reaches up and brushes a strand of hair back behind my ear. “You actually look pretty damn adorable right now to be honest.”

It’s then that another quote of the Bard’s comes unbidden to my mind; 

If music be the food of love, play on. 

His soft smile morphs into a grin of amusement as he notices the pattern on my pajama bottoms.

“Courage the cowardly dog, huh?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, I just didn’t realize you were twelve is all.”

“Oh shut up, I stand by these pajamas. Courage the cowardly dog is awesome.” 

The laughter continues.

”You really do look great, Eric.”

“Yeah, like a great big douche, maybe.”

“Stop it,” I laugh. “No, you don’t.”

“Don’t lie to me, Lucy, I know I look like a damn Jehovah’s Witness.”

That remark alone is enough to brighten my morning considerably and I find myself unable to resist making that fact very apparent to him.

He seems a little taken aback by the ferocity of my sudden embrace, laughing as he hugs me back.

“Maybe,” I agree, muttering the words into the material of his shirt, “but a fucking handsome one.”

“We’ve only been apart for thirty-six hours, did you really miss me that much? Or are you just excited to hear all about our Lord and savior?”

“Can’t it be both?”

I haven’t seen him dressed up like this since the night he met my parents. I appreciate the effort tremendously, but as handsome and polished as he looks, it’s still somewhat bizarre to me to see him donning the whole choirboy look.

“I’m so glad you’re coming with us, Eric. I don’t know what possessed you to make you want to come along with us but I’m sure we’ll get it out of you at church.”

With Mom nursing one hell of a hangover and an overworked Dad running on two hours of sleep; my parents, Eric and I attend church together.

It’s a slightly bizarre situation, one I never could have envisioned, let alone predicted occurring. All four of us here together, in a place I haven’t been regularly for years. 

The overpowering scent of vanilla incense pervades the air in the small chapel as the short, rotund man in the collar stands behind his pulpit, droning on and on and on.

Mom, sat next to me, is wearing a large pair of Chanel sunglasses and a wide-brimmed black hat, likely just relieved she didn’t immediately burst into flames upon entering the building.

It’s been two days since Eric and I had our little “Bonnie and Clyde incident” and the entire event still seems as surreal to me as it had while it was happening, all memory of it now possessing an almost dreamlike quality in my mind.

It isn’t my conscience that has begun to eat away at me, but a powerful fear of getting caught and suffering the repercussions for it.

“God sees all, my children...”

Eric leans over in the pew, cupping a hand up to my ear as he whispers;

“Sounds like a pervert to me.”

I snicker quietly beside him.

Dad takes this stuff seriously, unlike the rest of the family and running low on patience already these days, shoots us a quick warning look.

Eric mouths a silent apology to my Father and stares up ahead at the priest and Dad, seemingly satisfied, does the same.

Then Eric nudges me, so I’m forced to nudge him back, trying not to smile.

“If only we had more compassion in our hearts for our fellow man, if only we allowed the Lord’s light into our lives...”

“If only this fat, balding fuck could read a bible verse with a little passion like that guy in Pulp Fiction,” Eric whispers.

I try to fight it, I really do, but a small laugh escapes me, loud enough to earn glares from the elderly couple sat in front.

Dad turns sharply to chastise us, practically hissing my name as he leans across my more than likely comatose Mother toward me.

“Lucy, I swear to God...”

“Blasphemy,” I whisper, shaking my head back and fourth in disapproval.

Dad’s eyes widen, clamping a hand over his mouth.

He refuses to speak to me on the drive home.

“Well, that certainly was a lovely service, I must say!”

Mom smiles at herself in the mirror up front as we pull into the driveway.

“How would you know?” Dad scoffs, unbuckling his seatbelt. “You slept through most of it!”

Going to church, pretending to be the perfect family while my parents are getting divorced felt like putting on a show. Much to my displeasure, the performance continues and the second act is a barbecue.

I’m grateful for Eric’s presence however, finding it significantly easier to wade through the madness with him around, a lighthouse to a ship lost in the eye of the storm. 

Several of my parent’s friends, some of Dad’s cop buddies and a few neighbors have arrived by noon.

My Father fires up the barbecue with a certain over the top enthusiasm reserved exclusively for this very task while Mom plays bartender in the living room.

Eric helps me in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for a salad to accompany the dish I’m readying for the oven.

“Why the hell are you making food anyway?” he asks, beginning to slice up a head of lettuce. “Your Dad’s got more meat than a damn butcher’s shop out there.”

“I know, I just wanted to help out and I found this recipe online I really wanted to try.”

“Okay,” Eric says the word slowly, eyeing what I’m preparing with clear skepticism, “but why tofu?”

“It’s a healthier alternative, plus if there’s any vegetarians here later they’ll have something to eat too.”

”Oh, I see.” 

Eric starts to chuckle, back to me as he proceeds to make short work of the lettuce with his knife.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” he insists, surpresing a smile as he glances back over his shoulder at me. “I just didn’t realize you hated vegetarians so much is all.”

“Oh shut up.”

Rolling my eyes, I hit him with one of the oven gloves, but his laughter only intensifies.

I bend over to place the dish in the oven and that’s when he decides to spank me, almost making me drop the dish in my hands. 

Closing the oven door, I’m smiling, but I’m sure to change my expression before turning around to face him, hands on my hips.

“What?” he laughs, throwing his own hands up in defense.

“I’m sorry, the opportunity presented itself and I couldn’t turn it down!”

“You nearly made me spill the fucking food all over the floor!”

“Oh no!” Eric gasps loudly, bringing a hand up to cup either side of his face in mock horror. “Wouldn’t that be such a shame!”

“I’ve had enough of your shit, Harris. You are officially uninvited from the barbecue. You have exactly thirty seconds to get the fuck off of my property.”

Eric places the knife down on the chopping board, then stepping forward, closes in the last bit of distance between us.

“Or what, Peters? What the hell are you gonna do about it if I don’t?”

“Kick your ass is what,” I inform him.

A bellow of raucous laughter rings out from behind us.

Turning around we’re pleasantly surprised to be met with a grinning Dylan, leaning up against the doorframe, unbeknownst to us, very much enjoying the show.

“You tell him, Lucy!”

“Hi, Dylan, glad you could make it.”

Eric tilts his head back, chin jutting upward. 

“Hey, man, did you hear what she just said? She actually thinks she could kick my ass.” 

“She probably could, dude,” Dylan laughs. “I wouldn’t fuck with her.” 

Eric shakes his head incredulously, taking his gaze back to me. “You have all the upper body strength of a damn kitten!”

“You’re not exactly Rambo yourself, now are you?” 

His mouth falls open, then much to my amusement, he decides to start flexing.

“Are you serious? Have you not seen these guns of steel?”

“You’re an idiot,” I inform him, trying and failing to fight off a smile.

“I’m your idiot though, aren’t I, kitten?”

Behind us in the doorway, Dylan is ignored as he proceeds to make a series of loud gagging noises.

“Oh, it’s kitten now, is it? What ever happened to sugar-tits?”

Eric’s gaze falls to my lips as he licks his own.

“Kitten, sugar-tits, Lucy goosey, it’s all the same to me.”

Dylan clears his throat loudly in an effort to get our attention.

“You guys know I’m still here, right?”

“Dude, you’re 7ft2,” Eric replies, eyes still fixed on my own. “Of course we know you’re still here.”

I glance over to see Dylan roll his eyes, but then my own close, almost of their own accord, as Eric kisses me. 

“What the hell are you wearing, Reb?” Dylan starts to laugh all over again as he takes in his friend’s choice of outfit.

“You look like such a fucking dork.”

The kissing continues with Eric lifting a hand in the air, offering his friend a one fingered salute.

“Lucy, I don’t feel like waiting around so I’m going to raid your fridge and help myself to whatever I want. If that’s cool with you just keep licking Eric’s tonsils.”

I pull away from the kiss, just long enough to alert him that what I’m making will be ready in fifteen minutes.

Dylan proceeds to bend down to look inside the oven.

“What is that? Fuck, no thanks, I think I can wait around for a burger after all.” 

A smug, very amused looking Eric begins to laugh against my lips, arms coiled around me as we stand there in my kitchen.

“I told you that shit looked nasty, Lucy!”

Although initially I hadn’t been thrilled by the prospect of spending an entire day playing happy families while my parents are in the process of filing for divorce;

With both the beautiful weather and Eric and Dylan here, I slowly find myself coming around.

The day is uncharacteristically hot with the faintest of breezes, just enough to prevent the heat from becoming stifling. Perfect barbecue weather as Dad had said.

And soon the party is in full swing with Dad and his buddies gathered around the barbecue, a cold beer in every hand. Mom and her friends chose to mostly occupy the kitchen, holding wine glasses instead.

Eric, Dylan and I are out in the backyard, eating with Dad and his friends when they launch into a conversation that almost makes me choke on a mouthful of my burger.

“I’m telling you, it was a couple of amateurs that held up that store,” my Father insists. “These morons had no idea what the hell they were doing.”

“Then how did they know none of the cameras worked, Dave?”

“Dumb luck is my best guess,” Dad replies with a shrug of his shoulders.

“The whole thing just seems sloppy to me and they only made off with a few hundred bucks. Definitely not the work of professionals.”

He takes another bite of his burger, chews it slowly, then continues.

“We’ll catch the scumbags, don’t you worry, Louis. You can take my damn word on that. This one was a little too close to home for my liking.”

Having grown increasingly uncomfortable by the sudden and unwelcome turn of conversation, Eric and I quickly finish our food before finding an excuse to venture off.

Sarah has by now made an appearance, joining us all at the large, picnic-table and providing something of a distraction for Dylan while the two of us slip away.

We’re halfway through the throng of tipsy, middle-aged women in the kitchen when, much to his horror, Eric is seized upon by one of them.

My Aunt Carol has him by the arm as soon as she lays eyes on him. 

“What the fu-.”

“You must be Lucy’s little boyfriend! Aren’t you just the cutest little thing? We need to introduce you to the whole gang! It’s Ethan, isn’t it?” 

Up in my room, Eric sighs heavily, the matress creaking beneath him as he takes a seat on the bed behind me.

I lock the door and turn on some music, allowing the beautifully dreamy sounds of ‘Mellon Collie And The Infinite Sadness’ to fill the air.

“You sure this is a good idea, sugar-tit kitten?” Eric asks, helping to hoist me up through my bedroom window and onto the roof.

“Don’t make me laugh, you dick, I’ll fall!”

The heat is almost sweltering up here, the two of of us sat by side, backs against the huge chimney protruding from my house.

We can clearly hear the commotion of the party down below, the lively conversation and laughter of guests, the cheesy 70’s music Mom insisted on playing.

Up here however; we are invisible.

“Fuck, it’s hotter than hell,” Eric complains, shrugging off his flannel shirt, letting it drop carelessly atop the roof-tiles.

“You don’t think anyone will be able to see us up here, do you?”

I pull the joint from my pocket, placing it between my lips.

“No, I mean, I doubt it, most of them are already drunk.”

I light it up as Eric takes a seat next to me, slumping back against the wall of brick behind us.

“I just don’t want your Dad to find out and hate me more than he already does.”

“He doesn’t hate you, Eric.”

I take a few drags, then pass it to him, a lazy trail of smoke drifting between us.

Grabbing a handful of my shirt, I pull the material back and fourth from my chest in an attempt to relieve myself from the near stifling heat.

“If he knew the kinds of things we did together he would,” Eric argues bringing the joint up to his mouth.

“Oh fuck him, he made me go to church today!”

The contempt in my voice surprises even me.

He’s already busy inhaling when he starts to laugh, making him cough harshly.

I pat him on the back, attempting to help.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” he clears his throat, bringing a fist up and down on his chest a few times.

He manages a small smile.

“Speaking of, did you enjoy the service today?”

Bringing himself to take another small drag, he silently awaits my response.

“Wonderful. I feel closer to Jesus than ever before.”

He laughs again, nodding his head.

“Right, I’m sure that’s true.”

A cloud of smoke emerges from his lips, billowing up towards the sky, another drag, then it’s my turn again.

“I’m starting to think that maybe it’s you that needs Jesus, Eric, not me.”

His lips form a soft, almost heartbreaking smile.

“I only came along this morning so you wouldn’t have to suffer alone. I don’t need Jesus, not when you make me feel so fucking Godlike already.” 

His boot collides hard against my bedside dresser as he tumbles down below, back into my room.

“Fuck! Where the hell did you come out of?!”

“You okay?” I peer down inside the window from where I’m crouched above him on the roof.

“Um... yeah. All good, Lucy goosey. Your dresser might be a little worse for wear though.”

The CD continues to play as I cross the room, unlocking the door so as to avoid immediate suspicion should one of our parents come upstairs looking for us.

We end up lounging next to one another on my bed, heads hanging down over the side as we listen to the music.

“Are you as high as I am?”

I turn my face just enough to look over at him, cheeks lightly flushed from the rush of blood to his head.

“Higher probably,” I respond. “You look kind of weird upside down.”

He frowns at that.

“You look weird right side up and upside down,” he informs me.

With all the maturity of a five year old, I stick my tongue out at him.

“You know that Salvador Dali painting with all the melting clocks?”

Eric furrows his brow, presumably trying to envision the painting in question.

“Yeah, what about it?”

“I feel like one of those clocks right now.”

A small chuckle falls from his lips. 

“That’s not a bad comparison. You know that painting ‘The Scream’ where that dude is holding his face in his hands like that kid from ‘Home Alone?”

Now it’s my turn to laugh.

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Well, that’s how I felt when your Dad started talking about that store being held up the other night.”

Eric is joking, not to mention stoned out of his gourd, but there’s a tinge of genuine concern in his words.

“It’ll blow over in a week or so when something else happens. There’s nothing we can do about it now anyway. What’s done is done.”

I feel around the bed until my hand finds his, intertwining our fingers. 

“Don’t worry about it, Eric.”

His mouth hangs open slightly as he looks at me, head dangling over the bed next to his own, surely by this point just as lightheaded as I am.

“I still can’t believe he called us scumbags though,” I admit, giving his hand a quick squeeze.

He squeezes mine back, an amused smile playing on his lips.

“He didn’t know it was us, Lucy. I mean, I’m sure he’d happily call me a scumbag if he knew I was involved but I’m not sure he’d use that particular title to refer to his own kid.”

He laughs, then adds;

“He’d probably call you a dirtbag instead, that seems slightly less harsh than scumbag.”

“Go get me some Doritos from the pantry downstairs, would you, scumbag? I’m too stoned to move.”

Eric laughs again, lifting his head upward, pulling himself back up onto the bed.

“Oh fuck that! I’m sure as hell not going down there high as shit with half the cops in Littleton in your damn kitchen.”

“What if I made it worth your while?” I offer, propping myself up on the bed to look at him.

“Turning tricks for chips now, huh?” he asks with a smirk. “Real classy, Lucy. Daddy would be proud.”

He’s immediately hit with a pillow for the remark.

“Alright! Calm down, woman! I’ll get your damn Doritos! Just give me a few minutes to sober up, Goddamn!”

We’re grinning as our lips meld seamlessly together, melting into the soft mattress beneath us, only vaguely aware now of the faint sounds coming from the party downstairs.

In the corner of the room, the radio continues to play, drowning most of it out. 

‘ _My reflection, dirty mirror, there’s no connection to myself. I’m your lover, I’m your zero, I’m the face in your dreams of glass...’_

Eventually, after some fooling around and time to sober up, Eric agrees to venture downstairs on a mission to retrieve some chips.

“Grab a couple of sodas from the fridge for us too, would you?”

He turns to look at me over his shoulder as he heads towards the door.

“Anything else, master?”

“No, I think the soda and chips will suffice. Now make it fucking choppy, Harris.”

He frowns, trying to look annoyed but ruins the effect by laughing. 

“So fucking demanding, alright, I’ll be back in five, your majesty.” 

I lay back down on the bed, smiling up at the ceiling, listening to his footsteps as he descends the stairs in the hall.

I hear the bedroom door creak open sooner than I would have expected, but it’s not Eric I find standing in the doorway when I look up.

“Hey Lucy, how’s it going?”

I move back into a seated position on the bed, more than a little surprised to see my ex-boyfriend stood outside my bedroom door.

“Scott, what are you doing here?”

He unfortunately seems to take the question as a cue to come into the room.

“Mom dragged me along,” he informs me with a smile, rolling his eyes as he walks over towards my dresser.

I’m trying to decide on how to politely ask him to get the hell out of my room when he pulls open the top drawer and peers inside.

“Oh, what do we have here?” he chuckles, reaching in and fishing out a handful of silky material. “Very nice.”

I’m off the bed, headed towards him in an instant.

“That’s my damn underwear drawer, you creep! Get the fuck out of there!”

I go to grab the underwear from his hand, but he holds it up above his head, laughing as I attempt to jump up and take it from him.

“Give it to me, Scott!”

“Oh, I’ll give it to you alright!”

Then he has me, arms wrapped around my body, pulling me against him.

“What the hell do you thinks you’re doing?” I demand, attempting to shrug him off of me, but his grip only tightens.

“Come on, Lucy, you know you want this.”

His other hand finds the back of my neck and before I can even register what’s happening, he presses his lips against mine.

I pull away from him, horrified, bringing a hand up, I slap him across the face with as much force as I can muster.

“No, I don’t you dick!”

He’s always been a bit of an asshole, but I never knew Scott to have a genuine temper, not until now.

A flash of anger in his eyes, he grabs the wrist of the hand I just slapped him with, squeezing it tightly.

“Ow! You’re hurting me, Scott! Let go!”

I try to pull away again but he doesn’t allow it.

“Oh shut up, Lucy. I think we’ve talked enough, don’t you? It’s time for a little action instead.”

It’s a combination of that comment and the predatory look on his face that makes my blood runs cold.

He steps towards me again and I can’t help remembering the pair of scissors I have on the desk behind him.

I decide to scream but have barely taken the breath to do so before he clamps a hand over my mouth. I squirm in his grasp as he begins to shuffle us over towards the bed.

Then we’re on the bed itself, his hand still over my mouth. He curses loudly as I bite down hard on his fingers, temporarily lifting them from my mouth, just long enough for me to scream.

I attempt to bring a knee up between his legs but his body is pinning mine to the bed. A wave of pure panic consumes me as I assess the hopelessness of the situation.

“I’m sorry, Lucy, but if you won’t cooperate with me, I’m going to have to-.”

Before he can finish the sentence, Scott is crashing down onto the floor by the side of the bed and Eric is stood behind him, holding the remains of my broken desk chair in his hands.

“You stupid motherfucker!’ Eric’s face is a mask of pure fury as he stares down at him, chest rising and falling rapidly.

He delivers a swift kick in the direction Scott tumbled off the bed, then turns to look at me, offering a hand.

I take it and he helps pull me off the bed  
to my feet.

“Eric, he just... I didn’t want him to... I...”

His arms are around me then, comforting and reassuring, opposed to the creepy and terrifying embrace I’ve just been released from.

“I know, Lucy, I know. It’s okay, you’re safe now,” he assures me, running a hand gently along my back. “I’m here.”

Burying my face in his chest, I’m sure I’ve begun to dampen his chest with the tears that have started to well up in my eyes.

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry,” I apologize, pulling away from him slightly to wipe at the wet streaks.

“Don’t worry about my damn shirt, Lucy. Are you okay?”

I manage a small nod, but I’m not entirely sure that I am, still in a total state of disbelief over what’s just occurred.

“I think so, I just can’t believe he actually...”

I finally look down at Scott, unmoving, eyes closed, sprawled out along my bedroom floor and I can’t even get the word out.

“... that he actually tried to...”

Eric glances down at him too, his expression of concern changing almost instantaneously back to one of anger as he does.

“Looks like he’s an even dumber son of a bitch than I’d initially thought.”

Eric delivers a swift kick to his stomach.

“Aren’t you, asshole?!”

Scott makes no sound in response, causing the two of us to stare wide-eyed at one another in panic.

“Kick him again,” I suggest, fear over the current situation slowly bringing me back to reality.

He does and again Scott doesn’t budge.

“Eric, is he-.”

“No, he can’t be,” he interjects, already knowing what I’m about to ask.

He crouches down next to Scott, placing two fingers against his neck.

Looking back up at me, Eric’s face seems a little paler than it had a moment before.

He slowly begins to shake his head, eyes not quite meeting my own.

“I think he might be dead,” he says quietly.

“Oh My God! Shit! Shit! Shit! What the hell are we going to do?!”

Eric is on his feet again in seconds, seizing me by the shoulders, attempting to make me see reason.

“Lucy, listen to me, you need to calm the fuck down, alright?”

He might as well have just suggested I grow wings and fly around the room.

“Calm down? Are you serious? This fucker just attacked me, then you killed him and now you expect me to be calm?!”

“Will you please keep your fucking voice down!” Eric snaps. He licks his lips, lowering his voice before he continues;

“After what this asshole tried to do to you, he deserves what he got. We can freak out about this later but now isn’t the time for you to be losing your shit.”

I lower myself to the ground next to Scott and give him a good hard shake.

“Wake up, you dick.”

I give him another hard slap across the face.

“Get up!”

And another.

“Get up! Get up! Get up!”

Then Eric’s hands are on my shoulders.

“Lucy, he’s not getting up.”

I glance up at him, standing above me.

“It’s okay though, I have an idea.”

I’m not sure I even want to hear this.

“We just might need a little help is all.”

The idea is discussed and we agree after some debate that the best course of action is to think logically about this, not emotionally.

That however, turns out to be much easier in theory than in practice. 

“This might be a little too fucked up, Eric, even for me. I’m not sure I can do this.”

The two of us stand side by side, the last of the marijuana’s effects beginning to dwindle as we stare down at Scott’s unmoving form.

“Maybe we should just tell my Dad what happened.”

“Alright, we can tell him if you want to, of course we can, but you do know he’s not gonna be able to protect the both of us, right?”

I don’t know.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I could go to prison for life for this shit, then we’d never see each other again.”

“You were just protecting me,” I reason, horrified by the very suggestion. “Why would you go to prison for defending me?”

“Your Dad is a cop, Lucy, you know damn well that shit doesn’t always matter.”

He’s right, I’ve definitely heard about similar incidents with the same outcome. And the idea of him having to pay any price for saving me, especially one so severe, fills me with a powerful sense of despair.

“We were supposed to be getting the fuck out of here, damn it! Now we’re gonna be trapped in Littleton forever...”

Eric delivers another kick to Scott’s side.

“... dealing with shit this asshole forced upon us...”

He takes my face in his hands, sighing softly. Mildly bloodshot, hazel eyes bore into my own, filling my cloudy mind with sudden clarity, assuring me that the only plausible scenario is his.

Scott is promptly dragged across the room by a grumbling Eric. “Goddamn this fucker is heavy.”

Omitting a groan, he allows the upper half of Scott’s body to fall down unceremoniously onto the rug in the center of my bedroom.

Then he proceeds to wrap the rug around him, curling Scott up in it as he slowly pushes him along.

“Where did you even get the idea to do this, Eric?”

He pauses for a moment to look over at me, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“Working at Tortilla Wraps.”

With tortilla Scott hidden away, tucked beneath my bed in his makeshift cocoon; Eric and I venture downstairs in search of Dylan.

We need help and Eric has assured me that Dylan can be trusted, not only to provide that help, but to keep his mouth shut too.

He holds my hand as we we walk through the throng of people in the living room.

As awful as the situation is, I’m relieved to have him here with me and even if things in this case aren’t exactly ideal, I can barely fathom the alternative.

“I swear to God,” Eric mutters darkly as we walk into the kitchen. “If one of those drunk bitches tries to grope me again on our way outside I’m gonna break another chair.”

We find both our Fathers still sat at the large picnic table out back, drinking and smoking cigars.

I can’t help noticing that the tofu mess I’ve created and stubbornly insisted tasted good, has gone untouched. 

“Hey Dad, have you seen Dylan anywhere?” Eric asks, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck.

Wayne takes a puff of his cigar, shaking his head.

“Can’t say that I have, son, not in a while anyway. Last I saw of him he was talking to Lucy’s sister.”

After checking the living room and kitchen again, we head back upstairs.

“There’s no way they’re in her old room. Her and Jason are back together now.”

Eric wiggles his eyebrows at me.

“They could be.”

“I sincerely doubt it.” 

“We’ve checked everywhere else, haven’t we? I bet you fifty bucks they’re in there getting it on.”

“Please stop, if we walk in on them fucking I’m going to throw up.”

The nausea makes an appearance, just as predicted, as soon as we hear the giggling coming from my sister’s old room.

“I don’t want to say it, Lucy.”

Eric’s grin is more than a little smug.

“Then don’t.”

I’m sure to knock a couple of times first, in hopes of not scarring myself for life any more than I already have this evening.

“Sarah, have you seen-.”

Of course she has.

“I told you so, Lucy.” Eric laughs, nudging me in the side with his elbow.

“The fuckers were in here getting it on this whole time.”

Dylan and Sarah are laying on her bed when we walk into the room.

And if the lipstick all over Dylan’s mouth is any indication, Eric was at least partially right.

Thankfully the actual picture is more innocent and far less colorful than the one he’d painted in my head.  
  
Sarah ends up being involved just from having been there when we found Dylan. Then the four of us make our way back to my room.

Eric and I walk hand in hand in front with a disheveled looking Sarah and Dylan following along behind us.

“Shut the door and lock it,” Eric tells me, walking straight over towards the bed and kneeling down.

I do as he says while Sarah and Dylan eye the two of us in confusion.

“Something happened,” Eric explains, pausing briefly to bite down on his lower lip.

He looks to me, expression almost puppy-dog like and my heart sinks in my chest.

“Scott tried to attack Lucy, so I hit him with a chair. We think he might be dead.”

He summed it up far more bluntly and succinctly than I ever could have.

“What?!”

Dylan’s eyes seem to have grown to the size of dinner plates, bright pink lipstick now smeared all over his lips and chin.

“You’re fucking with us, right?”

“Of course they are, Dylan.”

Sarah sighs deeply, rolling her heavily made-up eyes at the two of us.

“You two aren’t funny, you know, you shouldn’t fuck around about shit like that.”

“We’re not fucking around!” Eric snaps, voice thick with aggravation.

They stare at him, then at me and soon the looks of disbelief begin to fade, being replaced by ones of sudden realization.

“You guys are being serious...”

“The fucker didn’t give me any choice!” Eric insists. “He came in here and put his filthy goddamn hands on her and I... I just...”

I cross the room and kneel down onto the floor next to him, pulling him into a hug as he struggles to finish the sentence.

His arms wrap around me and as he hugs me back it becomes evident that he needs it just as much as I do.

Lost in the blissful comfort of one another’s arms it’s temporarily easy to forget the reality of the situation; Sarah and Dylan are staring at us like a couple of zoo animals and my ex-boyfriend’s dead body is just a few feet away.

Sarah stands there frozen while Dylan shakes his head back in fourth in disbelief.

“Fuck, man, this is some heavy shit. I know Evans’ was was an asshole but I never would have thought he’d do something like...”

Dylan’s voice trails off for a second, then he asks what would have been one of my first questions too;

“Where’s the body?”

“Right here,” Eric sighs, gesturing beneath the bed with a wave of his hand.

Sarah’s initial response is shock, then anger.

“I just can’t believe this! How dare that sick bastard lay his hands on my baby sister!”

Eric’s expression quickly turns to one of annoyance, scowling up at her from the floor.

“This isn’t about you, Sarah. I know this might be hard for you to believe but not everything is.”

“Hey, not cool, man, lay off her, Reb!”

Dylan frowns at his friend, taking immediate offense on my sister’s behalf.

Eric glances over at him, then at Sarah again and rolls his eyes.

He reaches beneath the bed with both hands, beginning to try and roll the rug out.

“Fuck you, you little douchebag, I do not think everything is about me!”

My sister marches over to us.

“I’m about to help you dumb shits get rid of a body, aren’t I? You should probably be a bit nicer to me.”

With Dylan’s help, Scott is slowly rolled out from beneath my bed.

The four of us stand there, arguing in hushed tones about how and when to best transport the body from the house when the bundle in the rug begins to move.

Sarah gasps loudly, jumping backward.

We watch as a hand breaks fourth from one of the rolled up ends of the rug, all of us but Dylan. 

He’s too busy staring at Sarah and ends up screaming in alarm when the hand attaches itself to his ankle.

The rug is quickly unfurled, freeing a very sweaty looking Scott, gasping loudly for air.

His chest springs forward then he’s sitting up, resting on the palms of his hands, eyes manically darting around the room in confusion.

“What the hell?!”

“You fainted,” I blurt, not entirely sure where I’m going with this. “I felt your forehead and you were cold so we wrapped you up in the rug to keep your body temperature up.”

Scott furrows his sweaty brow, confused and mildly disoriented as he stares up at me.

“Thank God you’re okay, man,” Dylan adds, kindly attempting to give credibility to my ridiculous lie by going along with it.“We were just about to call an ambulance.”

Scott stretches his arms above his head, giving his legs a quick shake. Then we watch as my very much still alive ex-boyfriend clambers to his feet, wavering, but catching his balance.

“Are you okay, Scott?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

He cocks his head to one side, then the other, staring down at the rug he was just encased in.

“I fainted, huh? That’s never happened to me before.”

“I bet nobody has ever tried to castrate you with a rusty knife before either,” Eric mutters, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

Reaching up, I intertwine my fingers with his, letting my head rest back against his chest.

“What was that, Harris?”

“I said I hope you’re okay, man,” Eric replies, staring him down with a look that could turn Medusa herself to stone.

Incredibly, almost unfathomably, the party ends without further incident; a somewhat confused Scott taking us at our word regarding what happened.

Sarah leaves shortly after, cruelly promising to call Dylan the next day before returning to the apartment she shares with her boyfriend.

Dylan himself has an evening shift at Blackjack he needs to get to and it doesn’t seem long at all until Eric and I are left alone again.

With both sets of parents good and liquored up by this point, we feel reasonably confident there won’t be talk of a curfew tonight.

I turn the radio off, opting to allow the T.V. to provide some background noise instead, settling on an episode of ‘Beavis and Butthead’ before falling down onto the bed next to Eric.

A while later, sat opposite one another, I find it impossible not to smile as I rub more of the mask onto his frowning face. 

Under normal circumstances he would never allow me to do this, not in a million years, but in an attempt to boost my spirits he had promised we could do whatever I wanted for the rest of the evening. 

“I can’t believe you’re torturing me like this,” he complains. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you, Eric, I’m trying to make you beautiful.” 

“It’s gonna take a hell of a lot more than a face mask to make that happen!”

“What are you talking about? You’re gorgeous, you idiot.”

He scoffs at that, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling as I smear more of the mixture across his forehead.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m a fucking Adonis.”

I add another dab to either of his cheeks, then lean back, admiring my handiwork with a smile.

“If you ever tell anyone I let you do this, Lucy-.”

He looks so comical, halfheartedly threatening me with a lime green face that it’s a genuine struggle not to laugh.

“You’ll what?”

“I...”

Eric looks at a loss for words.

“I won’t be very happy about it, that’s what!”

Laughing, I lean toward him, closing my eyes, bringing my lips to his.

He kisses me back but it lacks the same passion as earlier, something is off. 

“What is it?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Tell me.” 

He bites down on the flesh of his lower lip, staring silently at me for a few moments, face pensive. 

“I wish I fucking killed him, Lucy. I really, really do.” 

I take his hand in mine again, giving it another quick squeeze. 

“Well, as much as I hate the bastard, I’m glad you didn’t. I’m not sure we could have actually pulled the whole cover-up thing off and you’re far too pretty to go to prison.” 

That manages to get a small laugh out of him. 

“I can’t wait for us to get the hell out of here, Eric, for it to be just the two of us. I hate this place so much.” 

He squeezes my hand, kissing me again, this time like he means it, providing a soft and sweet reminder that soon we will be together, far away from all of this.

And maybe, just maybe, all the bullshit we’ve been through will have finally been worth it.

“I do too, Lucy, believe me, you have no fucking idea... You just make sure to have all your stuff packed up and ready to go on Friday night, okay?” 

“I will,” I assure him with a nod of my head, having already already begun the process of sorting through my things.

“I’ll be ready.” 


	15. The Forest Witch’s Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Now I just stare into the sun,  
> And I see everything I've done  
> I think I could have been someone  
> But I can't stop what has begun  
> When everything is said and done,  
> And there is no place left to run  
> I think I used to be someone  
> Now I just stare into the sun.’
> 
> \- Sunspots, NIN.

Even with the small fan by the bed working at full capacity and the windows open; the night is uncomfortably hot. I seem to spend most of it tossing and turning atop the mattress, damp skin sticking to the sheets with perspiration, unable to find any measure of comfort.

The heat isn’t the only reason for my discomfort, a strange kind of sadness has been with me for days now, a dull, unexplainable sense of dread pervading my senses. The cause is lost on me entirely, but I can’t seem to shake it off no matter how hard I try.

Around 2:00a.m. I give up on my fruitless attempt at sleep, throwing the thin sheet I’ve been using as a blanket from my body and rising from the bed.

Sleep alludes me and I can’t hit the off switch connected to my brain, racing thoughts and discomfort having been my two constant, unwelcome companions throughout the night. Making my way over to the desk, I wonder if Eric is still awake at this ungodly hour. Or is he dreaming? And if so, could he be dreaming of me?

It wouldn’t be entirely unusual for him to still be up at this time, I remind myself, swinging back on the hind legs of my chair, waiting for the computer to start up.

I’m forced to squint at the brightness of the screen when it does, having spent the last few hours in a room submerged in darkness.

Eyes beginning to adjust, I quickly type out a message, short, sweet and to the point, then hit send.

LUCYGOosey: you up fucko?

Pushing the hair back from my damp brow with a rake of my fingers, I stare at the screen, contemplating heading downstairs for a nice cool glass of water.

He’s probably asleep.

I stand up and am halfway towards the door when I’m alerted of his reply, the sound of which causes me to look back at the computer screen. I return to my desk, want of a beverage now forgotten.

REB DoMINe: no

Smiling, I sit myself back down at my computer. Four keys are pressed in succession then I hit send again.

LUCYGOosey: liar  
REB DoMINe: zzzzzzzzzz  
REB DoMINe: why are you still up?  
LUCYGOosey: can’t sleep  
REB DoMINe: me neither  
LUCYGOosey: who needs sleep?  
REB DoMINe: agreed  
REB DoMiNe: sleep is for the weak  
LUCYGOosey: it’s hot as hell  
REB DoMINe: youre hot as hell  
REB DoMINe: ;)  
LUCYGOosey: yeah that’s kind of the problem  
REB DoMINe: say no more  
REB DoMINe: I’ll be over in five  
REB DoMiNe: to cool you off with a nice sponge bath

About to type a reply, I hesitate, fingers pausing mid-air above the keyboard at what I’m sure is the sound of my Dad getting up across the hall. He’d kill me if he caught me up this late on the computer but then there’s only silence, so I continue typing.

LUCYGOosey: you better be  
REB DoMINE: other than slowly cooking alive in this heat, how are you?  
REBDoMINe: you seemed a little off at school today  
REBDoMINe: I hope I didnt say or do anything to upset you

He’s not entirely wrong, I have been in an odd funk the past day or two and the longer it goes on the harder it is to hide. Especially from him, already more perceptive than the average person with the added advantage of being able to read me like a damn book.

REB DoMINe: ?  
LUCYGOosey: no not at all  
LUCYGOosey: of course not  
LUCYGOosey: your perfect eric   
REB DoMINe: :)  
RED DoMINe: very true  
LUCYGOosey: lol  
REB DoMINe: whats so funny about that?  
REB DoMINe: >:(  
LUCYGOosey: lol times infinity  
REB DoMINe: soooo  
REB DoMiNe: what was chapping your lovely ass today missy??  
REB DoMINe: if not my handsome self  
REB DoMINe: is it that thing that happened with Snot the other night?  
LUCYGOosey: no but what a nice and fitting typo  
REB DoMINe: that wasnt a typo  
REB DoMINe: Im gonna mount that fuckers head on my wall someday  
REB DoMiNe: mark my damn words

As horrendous an ordeal as the situation with Scott had been I suddenly realize that I’ve barely thought about it at all since the other night. That, if anything; only furthers my belief that something isn’t right. Something is rotten in the state of Littleton and I can’t put my finger on whatever the fuck it is.

There’s an awful, unsettling sensation in the pit of my stomach, a nasty, out of the blue feeling in my gut that tells me something is off. I don’t share this with Eric however; worried I might give the game away and sound as crazy and irrational as I actually feel. Instead; I continue the discussion about him mounting Scott’s head like a hunting trophy.

LUCYGOosey: that would look great above the mantle  
REB DoMINe: agreed  
REB DoMINe: so what was up with you today?  
REB DoMiNe: tell me damn you!  
LUCYGOosey: I don’t know if I can explain it  
REB DoMiNe: try me

Hands hovering above the keyboard, my eyes are fixed on the screen as though I expect the words to type themselves. Just how do I articulate what it is that I’m feeling? How do I make him understand, when I can’t even begin to do so myself?

LUCYGOosey: do you ever feel like something really bad is about to happen?  
REB DoMiNe: occasionally  
REB DoMiNe: but usually only if I have good reason to  
LUCYGOosey: what about for no particular reason? are you ever just hit with an unexplained sense of doom out of nowhere  
LUCYGOosey: this shitty overwhelming feeling that you’re ultimately powerless  
LUCYGOosey: in a world that doesn’t give two shits about you  
REB DoMINe: now I’m just thinking about playing doom to be honest  
LUCYGOosey: of course you are  
REB DoMINe: hmm  
REB DoMiNe: I think I know what you mean  
REB DoMINe: sometimes I do  
REB DoMINe: depends on who is walking towards me in the hall you know?  
LUCYGOosey: :(  
REB DoMiNe: why  
REB DoMiNe: whats it about do you think?  
LUCYGOosey: I couldnt say  
LUCYGOosey: I just...  
LUCYGOosey: do you ever feel like the whole world could come to an end in an instant, with no warning whatsoever?  
LUCYGOosey: thats what this feels like  
LUCYGOosey: whatever the hell it is  
REB DoMINe: no  
REB DoMiNe: cant say that I have  
REB DoMINe: but maybe it should  
LUCYGOosey: should what?  
REB DoMINe: come to and end  
REB DoMiNe: with no warning whatsoever  
LUCYGOosey: you don’t really believe that  
REB DoMiNe: yea, I do  
REB DoMINe: once I have you, my parents, sparky and dylan safe in my underground bunker with me  
REB DoMiNe: the aliens can come and vaporize this worthless planet entirely for all I care  
LUCYGOosey: can my dad come to the bunker?  
REB DoMINe: of course  
LUCYGOosey: what about my mom?  
REB DoMINe: what about her  
LUCYGOosey: she doesn’t make the cut?  
REB DoMiNe: this is kind of awkward  
LUCYGOosey: what?  
REB DoMINe: theres only seven beds...  
LUCYGOosey: so let me get this straight  
LUCYGOosey: sparky gets his own bed  
REB DoMINe: yep  
LUCYGOosey: and there’s no room for my mom?  
REB DoMINe: uh huh  
REB DoMiNe: correct  
REB DoMINe: hope theres no hard feelings  
REB DoMiNe: I dont know if you realize this but Ive got a pretty big crush on you  
REB DoMiNe: I was kind of hoping we could hook up once this whole apocalypse thing goes down

I thought that talking to him would make me feel better, that it could help take my mind off the powerful feeling of unpleasantness currently encompassing my very being. And it works just as I suspected it would; like a motherfucking charm.

Lips curled up into a grin, I swing back on my chair, considering my reply for a second or two before responding.

LUCYGOosey: sounds like a plan  
LUCYGOosey: no hard feelings  
LUCYGOosey: I understand  
REB DoMINe: hmm, I might let her come  
REB DoMINe: if she lays off the sauce a little and you are extra nice to me

Trying to envision the scenario in my head, it’s hard not to imagine what would inevitably end up happening, aka; us witnessing her slow metamorphosis from Mom to Jack Torrance from the Shining. The thought amuses me far more than it should.

LUCYGOosey: I’m always extra nice to you  
LUCYGOosey: and shes better off with the booze  
LUCYGOosey: trust me  
LUCYGOosey: all work and no play makes beverly a dull girl  
REB DoMiNe: heeeere’s mommy!!!  
REB DoMINe: hey can I ask you something?  
LUCYGOosey: of course anything  
REB DoMINe: anything?  
LUCYGOosey: go for it  
REB DoMINe: what color are your panties?  
LUCYGOosey: was that really your question?  
LUCYGOosey: perv  
REB DoMINe: noooo  
REB DoMINe: but now I’m curious  
LUCYGOosey: curiosity killed the cat  
REB DoMINe: but satisfaction brought him back  
REB DoMiNe: meow meow  
Reb DoMiNe: nooo what I REALLY wanted to ask you was  
REB DoMINe: are you having second thoughts?  
LUCYGOosey: about what?  
REB DoMiNe: about whether or not you really want lucky charms for your breakfast  
LUCYGOosey: you’ve lost me  
LUCYGOosey: I don’t like lucky charms?  
REB DoMiNe: I meant about us taking off together dummy  
LUCYGOosey: oh  
LUCYGOosey: no it’s not that  
REB DoMINe: then what is it  
REB DoMiNe: pray tell  
LUCYGOosey: fuuuuuck I don’t know  
LUCYGOosey: I really dont  
LUCYGOosey: just a feeling  
REB DoMiNe: care to elaborate?  
LUCYGOosey: a bad one  
REB DoMINe: care to elaborate some more??  
LUCYGOosey: I told you already I don’t know what it’s about  
LUCYGOosey: I just feel off  
LUCYGOose: and I dont know why  
REB DoMiNe: lucy...  
REB DoMiNe: if you want to back out please just tell me now  
REB DoMINe: I won’t be mad, I promise  
REB DoMINe: I just want you to be happy  
LUCYGOosey: no I don’t want to back out  
LUCYGOosey: not at all  
REB DoMiNe: and you’re ok?  
LUCYGOosey: I’m ok  
LUCYGOosey: at least I think so  
REB DoMiNe: well thats good  
REB DoMiNe: glad to hear it  
LUCYGOosey: It’s just one of THOSE days  
LUCYGOosey: know what I mean?  
REB DoMiNe: I do  
REB DoMiNe: unfortunately  
LUCYGOosey: I’ll be happy when I see you tomorrow though  
REB DoMiNe: :)  
REB DoMINe: as will I  
REB DoMINe: you mean later today  
REB DoMiNe: we have to get up for school in like three hours  
LUCYGOosey: oh fuck look at the time! :O  
LUCYGOosey: I didn’t realize it was so late I guess we should try to get some sleep  
REB DoMiNe: if you say so  
LUCYGOosey: aren’t you tired?  
REB DoMiNe: meh  
REB DoMiNe: I could sleep  
LUCYGOosey: then why don’t you?  
REB DoMiNe: enjoying talking to you too much  
LUCYGOosey: same here  
LUCYGOosey: thanks for distracting me  
LUCYGOosey: you made me feel a lot better (:  
REB DoMiNe: anytime  
REB DoMiNe: :)  
REB DoMiNe: now go the fuck to bed  
REB DoMiNe: I love you  
REB DoMiNe: but I dont want have to deal with your cranky sleep deprived ass all day at school  
LUCYGOosey: fuck you  
LUCYGOosey: I am always a delight to be around  
REB DoMiNe: true  
LUCYGOosey: you are right though  
REB DoMiNe: I usually am  
REB DoMiNe: about what??  
LUCYGOosey: I probably should go to bed  
REB DoMiNe: oh ok  
REB DoMiNe: try not to have too many dreams about me alright  
LUCYGOosey: ok, goodnight eric  
LUCYGOosey: <3  
REB DoMiNe: lucy wait  
LUCYGOosey: yeah  
REB DoMiNe: (.)(.)  
REB DoMiNe: guess what those are  
LUCYGOosey: are you for real???  
REB DoMiNe: bOoBs  
LUCYGOosey: GOODNIGHT ERIC! 

I log off then fall back into bed, still laughing softly to myself. Eventually exhaustion takes over, outweighing my discomfort, allowing me a few hours of broken, restless sleep. Unsurprisingly; I end up sleeping in.

Sprinting down the length of the hall, bag bouncing up and down against my back, I narrowly avoid colliding with a group of startled Sophomores. Pausing briefly, I utter a hurried apology, then commence darting down the hall towards English.

“Run, Forrest, run!” The remark yelled after me is followed by loud and obnoxious laughter. I don’t have time to respond, but being a fan of the movie, refuse to take the comment to heart. Forrest Gump is awesome and I’ve been called far worse.

Another apology is made, to the teacher this time as I walk into the classroom fifteen minutes late. I look over to the corner of the room almost automatically.

Eric is sat at his usual desk, shaking his head slowly, tapping two fingers up and down on the face of his watch.

Glancing behind me, making sure Mr. Wagner’s eyes are averted, I proceed to flip Eric off.

Lips forming a lopsided smirk, his line of vision falls, casting his gaze downward along the length of my body, then back up again as I make my way to my seat.

Settling into my chair, I stare straight ahead at the board, calling upon all my restraint not to look at him, determined not to give him the satisfaction.

Feeling his eyes burning a hole in the side of my face, I soon grow weak and lose the battle, glancing back over to find him grinning at me.

Since the night we met I’ve hated the fact that we only have one class together; I’m slowly beginning to realize it’s probably for the best, at least where our grades are concerned.

It’s impossible to concentrate on anything with Eric around, even if he is on the other side of the room.

When I’m with him there’s always a dumb joke on my lips, that ever present urge to hold his hand, to kiss him, to tell him what an adorable fucking idiot he is and how I’ll love him long after the last star in the sky has burnt out.

I try to ignore him, to concentrate on the lesson, but I can see him making faces at me from the corner of my eye and am unable to keep my gaze averted.

I immediately regret the decision to look a second time, his expression so ludicrous the laughter that comes to my lips is loud and instantaneous.

“Something funny, Miss Peters?”

I peer up at the teacher from behind the binder I’m clutching in my hands, attempting to hide my involuntary smirk.

“No, Mr. Wagner, not at all, I’m very sorry.”

Our English teacher, a tall, emaciated looking man in his mid-forties with a shock of dark curly hair, does not look impressed with our antics.

“Does detention sound funny to you, Lucy? Nearly twenty minutes late for class and now you’re laughing during my lesson.”

Hands on his hips, looking more effeminate than he probably realizes; Mr. Wagner frowns disapprovingly, awaiting a reply. I’m about to answer when Eric decides to save me the trouble, taking it upon himself to do so for me.

“It was my fault, Mr. Wagner, I was distracting her.” Pushing his chair back from the desk, Eric rises to his feet. “If you’re gonna give anyone detention it should be me.”

Wagner raises an eyebrow, seeming to consider the possibility, but then a smile appears, thankfully suggesting otherwise.

“I’ll tell you what, Eric; if you and Miss Peters can somehow make it through the rest of my class without making goo-goo eyes at each other from across the room; I’ll let you both off with a warning.”

My cheeks grow hot, a dead giveaway that I’m blushing as the class begins to laugh. Eric catches my eye again, looking back over at me and in an instant some if not all of my embarrassment is alleviated.

The feeling that dominates me now is one of hope, one of pure unadulterated joy over the fact that soon, very, very soon, we will be riding off into the proverbial sunset together.

I spend the rest of the class pretending to listen to Wagner, nodding my head occasionally, attempting to look interested, but my mind, yet again, is a thousand miles away.

From the moment of its conception I’ve been so swept up in this, so profoundly enamored by the romantic notion of Eric and I running away together. Bewitched so entirely by the prospect; I don’t think I ever really thought about the situation with any real clarity, any true sense of realism.

Begrudgingly, I’m forced to admit to myself that love goggles may have clouded our better judgement. Sitting there in class, after nearly two weeks of planning this passionate and exiting new chapter we’re about to embark on; the first real hint of doubt begins to creep in.

This is the first time I have genuinely wondered if our future will really be as bright and sunny as I envision it to be.

We love each other but is love enough? It feels like it is, but what are we going to do when we eventually run out of cash? I’m not holding up another store, that’s for damn sure, my heart nearly gave out on me the last time.

That was a one time thing. A stupid, crazy spontaneous once-off, never to be repeated. So, how are we going to support ourselves? I can only imagine the kind of shitty job prospects that await two teenage high school dropouts.

Realizing I’ve been zoned out, staring down at my desk for too long, I try to push that particular train of thought from my mind.

Eric is now leaning back in his chair, stacking pens in a square formation on the desk in front of him. He seems to sense me looking at him, glancing back over and his mouth turns up into a smile when he catches me staring.

He looks up at Wagner before his eyes are on me again. Eric points to his eye, the left of his chest then at me in quick succession. It almost feels like I should be sat in the corner wearing one of those giant dunce hats given how long it takes me to comprehend just what it is he’s signaling.

The penny finally drops. I roll my eyes, but never entirely resistant to his charms, blow him a kiss.

Much to my amusement, he goes out of his way pretending to catch it, reaching upward and jumping out of his chair a little. Clamping a hand over my mouth, I struggle to avoid laughing audibly, hoping not to further endure Wagner’s wrath.

“Dumbass,” I mouth the word wordlessly, as clearly and distinctly as possible. Eric furrows his brow, shrugging his shoulders, pretending not to have understood.

Then he winks at me, blowing a kiss back, looking so adorable it’s a genuine struggle not to walk over and plant one on him then and there. My heart seems to swell in my chest a little and that’s when I know with a concrete certainty that love is enough, more than enough, at least for me.

We’ll find a way to make it work.

Being the hopeless romantic that he is, Eric then decides to flip me off from across the room.

The bell rings, dismissing the one class we have together, causing a hoard of students to rise in unison and make their way towards the door.

“Thanks for taking the heat back there for me, Harris.”

Eric’s arm links with my own as we walk down a hallway with row after row after row of blue lockers on either side, now bustling with activity at this early hour of the day.

“No, thank you, Lucy. Really.”

“For what?”

“Wearing those shorts today,” he sighs, giving me another quick once over, eyes scanning me up and down as we walk.

“Goddamn.”

“That face you were making in there was ridiculous.”

“You mean this one?” he asks, pulling the aforementioned face, making me laugh again.

“Stop it!” I demand, playfully slapping the arm now hooked around with my own.

“I think that’s gonna be my new orgasm face.” Eric pauses, donning that mischievous grin he always seems to wear when he’s fucking around. “Whenever I’m about to finish you can expect to see that pretty face staring down at you so you know what’s coming... namely me.”

“Gross. Thanks for warning me so I’ll know never to sleep with you again.”

Melodic laughter fills the air and the sound alone makes my soul feel a little lighter.

“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”

I give him a stern look, provoking more of my favorite sound.

“Oh shut up, Lucy. I couldn’t keep you off this dick if I tried!”

That results in a slightly more aggressive slap to the arm as I stare open-mouthed at him. “Eric! What the hell?!

There’s more laughter, still lovely, if not a little harder to appreciate this time.

“Not so loud!”

“I’m sorry, Lucy,” Eric insists, fighting a losing battle to compose himself. “That was not cool. I shouldn’t have.-“

He barely manages to get the words out, then he’s doubled over, laughing like a man possessed.

“Why do you do this to me? You’re so damn mean sometimes!”

“I know, I know...” Eric only seems further entertained by my annoyance, wiping a tear from his eye as he continues to laugh at me. “I’m sorry, but your face was so damn funny!”

“I hate you,” I tell him, pouting like a petulant six year old. “Just so you know.”

Turning to walk away, I’m stopped by a hand on my shoulder, feeling his warm breath against my neck and a pair of lips close to my ear.

“You don’t hate me, you liar. You know you love me. You know you can’t stay mad at me.”

Back to him, I start to smile. “I know you’re an asshole,” I reply, failing miserably at pretending to still be annoyed.

“You know you want another slice of this twelve-inch pepperoni,” he whispers, cupping his fingers around my ear. “That’s what you know.”

I’m laughing despite myself as he spins me around to face him, the two of us easily ignoring the steady stream of students passing by on their way to class.

Our kiss is met with what has become something of a regular refrain these days;

“Get a room!”

We continue regardless, ignoring it as we usually do, but it’s harder to ignore the next comment made.

“Lucy, you have something on your face.”

Eyes snapping open, I see Laura standing behind Eric. She brings a hand up, pointing to her lips. “Looks like you’ve got a little bit of loser stuck to you right there.”

After our brief conversation at the video store I’d naively thought that maybe Laura had matured; that my former best friend and I had come to a point where we could at least be civil to one another. Even if she did leave me bloody and in tears on the bathroom floor just a few short weeks ago.

Her smug expression of superiority as she awaits a reply however, makes it quickly apparent that I was wrong.

“I can’t believe you gave up Scott Evans for this loser. Wow, how the mighty have fallen!”

“Scott again? Jesus, you and him really should start dating. You’re perfect for each other.”

“Thanks, same goes for you and your little pet project here.”

As much as the remark irritates me, it infuriates Eric; a seldom seen anger in his eyes now dominates them, vivid and clear as day. He justifiably proceeds to stare daggers at Laura.

“What the fuck did you just say?” His voice is sharp enough to cut glass and if looks could kill she’d be on the ground already. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Placing a hand against his chest in a pitiful attempt to restrain him, I silently plead with my eyes, don’t take the bait.

Eric looks down at my hand, then up at me and his face softens slightly, fury relenting, giving way to milder annoyance instead.

“I guess you must feel sorry for him or something, huh? It’s kind of nice of you actually, to do a little charity work.”

He tries to hide it, the crippling blow he seems to receive upon hearing those words, but that too is as clear as day. What she said has managed to wound him and Laura and I can plainly see it; the hurt and pure embarrassment on his face.

“Jesus, Laura, why do you have to be such a damn bitch all the time? What the hell did Eric and I ever do to you?!”

Flipping her long bottle blonde hair over her shoulder, Laura is unfazed by the question, smirking at Eric in an incredibly irritating fashion.

“Oh no, Lucy, is your little boyfriend about to cry? I hope hearing the truth didn’t upset him too much.”

I’m about to verbally rip her to shreds when Eric surprises us both by laughing loudly, seemingly having snapped back to his usual self just as quickly as he’d snapped out of it.

Laura wasn’t expecting the response and eyes Eric somewhat skeptically now, taking half a step backwards. “What the hell are you laughing at, loser?”

Really? Is loser the best she can come up with?

Eric takes a step forward, eyes boring into her face.

“You. I’m laughing at you, Laura. I’m laughing at the fact that somehow that little pea-sized brain of yours convinced you that either Lucy or I give two fucks about your opinion. I’m laughing at the fact that you actually seem to think we would want to listen to the ramblings of a cruel, mindless, vapid, backstabbing, whorish little thunder-cunt like you.”

That was beautiful, absolutely glorious.

“Holy shit, Eric, you tell her!”

Mouth agape, I stare at the two of them, the intensity on Eric’s face is powerful, almost unsettlingly and now the tables have turned and Laura looks as though she’s the one who’s about to cry. She crumbled faster than I would have thought possible.

“I’m also laughing at the fact that you were born with both sets of genitalia and have to tape your balls back every morning before you come to school...”

Her jaw drops when he says that, as does mine.

“Oh My God! That was you who spread that rumor! Stop telling people that, Eric! It’s not true!” And now it’s her that seems to be her burning with embarrassment.

“Tell him, Lucy!” Laura pleads. “Tell him that rumor isn’t true!”

“I don’t know, Laura...”

Eric’s stern look has now turned into an incredibly amused grin.

“I’d like to but I’ve heard that rumor one two many times now. I’m starting to think it might be true...”

Cheeks the color of a tomato, Laura looks back and fourth between the two of us.

“I like how you brought Dads into the equation by the way,” I add. “Hey, didn’t you tell me your Dad lost his job and that’s why you were working at that shitty video store in the first place?”

Laura’s jaw drops a little further.

“I overhead my Mom saying your family is going broke.”

“Oh shit, isn’t that a shame?” Eric sighs, feigning sympathy. “I guess they’re gonna have to move out of that big fancy house of theirs now, huh?”

I feel like a bitch for making the remark but she knows how close I am with my Dad, or at least how close we used to be. Even though I don’t give a shit what Laura thinks, to claim my Father doesn’t love me is a low blow.

“You know what, Lucy? I’m sick of your shit!”

That renders me speechless. After making out with my ex-boyfriend two weeks after we broke up, after mercilessly attacking me for no apparent reason, after teasing Eric and I relentlessly about our relationship; Laura is now sick of my shit. I can’t help laughing.

“Are you serious?”

“Fuck yeah, I’m serious! I think I’m going to have to finish what I started that day in the bathroom...”

Part of me would love nothing more than to relive that day with the knowledge of what she was about to do. I wouldn’t have let her trick me in there in the first place, I would have gotten her alone before she had the chance...

“Woah! Woah! Calm down there, Larry!” Eric interjects, holding his hands up as he steps in between us, attempting to keep the peace.

“You can’t go beating up a girl, man. Not cool!”

Laura frowns at Eric, clearly unappreciative of the new nickname he has bestowed upon her, but other than that he’s ignored.

“I mean it, Lucy, you and me, tomorrow. Let’s do this.”

“Do you think this is a movie or something?” I ask, barely able to conceal the disbelief or amusement in my voice.

“I’m not fucking fighting you, Laura.”

“Of course you’re not,” she scoffs, bringing her hands to rest atop her hips.“God, you really are a spineless little chicken shit, aren’t you?”

I much preferred being called Forrest Gump, to be honest.

Eric takes a step towards her, his anger now glaringly apparent. I grab his hand, deciding the best thing to do now is just walk away, this little outburst likely isn’t even about us in the first place.

“Please don’t. It’s not worth it. Come on, let’s just go.”

Eric gives me a look, one that I perceive to mean don’t back down. I shake my head in response, pulling on his hand. With a heavy sigh he seems to let it go, however reluctantly, settling for shooting a quick dirty look in her direction as we walk by instead.

Or attempt to at least. Taking a step backward, then another in front of us, Laura blocks our path.

“Why are you being such a damn wuss about this, Lucy? I bet you’d love the chance to hit me. You’ve always been jealous of how much prettier and popular I am than you.”

That makes me laugh harder than I have in a while and Eric joins me.

“Yes, Laura, I’m so incredibly jealous of you, I admit it. Now will you kindly leave us the fuck alone and go ruin someone else’s day with your bullshit?”

That clearly wasn’t the response she was anticipating either, now appearing to grow more and more irate by the second. Then we witness what appears to be something of a eureka moment for her, a sinister looking grin appearing on her heavily made up face.

“I heard your Dad is moving away to New York because he doesn’t love you and your Mom anymore!” The comment is so absurd and childish, not to mention completely random, I immediately start laughing.

“Really, Laura?”

“Now that was some truly retarded shit to say out loud!” Eric laughingly exclaims, slapping a hand up and down on his knee for emphasis. “Your Daddy doesn’t love you, Lucy! Oh no! What do you think she is, fucking ten years old or something?”

“Yeah, sick burn, Larry,” I add, nudging him in the side with an elbow.

Seeing what a rise his nickname gets out of her, I make a mental reminder to use it exclusively when referring to her from here on out.

“Lucy, you know I’d never hit a woman or whatever this freak of nature is trying to pass itself off as,” Eric says the words slowly, staring at Laura like he’d love nothing more than to push her in front of a bus. “So will you please just go ahead and backhand this thunder-cunt for me?”

Somewhat shockingly, she ignores him again; continuing to seethe quietly while she stares at me, making it abundantly clear that I, for whatever reason, am the prime target of her rage.

“You and me tomorrow at the smoker’s pit, what do you say, Lucy? We can finally put all of this behind us once and for all.”

All of what?

This bitch’s name is never exactly going to be at the top of the Christmas card list and I’m never going to like her again, but I had been willing to move on and let bygones be bygones, so why isn’t she?

Why is she so hell bent on doing this?

Part of me suspects she might actually be jealous of my relationship with Eric. Maybe she resents the fact that I’ve found someone who actually likes me for who I am rather than some artificial version of myself that I present to the world as she does.

“How about a dance off instead? I jokingly suggest, attempting to lighten the mood.

“A dance off?” Laura being too stupid to realize that I’m screwing around, eyes me with confusion.

A burst of spontaneous laughter erupts from Eric’s lips, then I’m laughing again too.

“Are you going to fight me, or are you going to be a little bitch about this?” she snaps impatiently, growing visibly more agitated and hostile by the second.

“What’s it going to be, Lucy?!”

She’s fucking psychotic.

“Yeah, Lucy,” Eric chimes in. “What’s it going to be, you little bitch?”

Pressing my lips together tightly, I fight the powerful urge to laugh.

“Just tell the woman... man... whatever it is...”

That does it and once again we find ourselves laughing hard and loud. It’s a genuine struggle to maintain a straight face, addressing a now severely pissed off looking Laura.

“That depends; are you going to bring two other girls with you to hold me down this time?”

Presumably at the memory of the attack; my former best friend begins to laugh cruelly, omitting a snort that instantly reminds me of a pig as she does.

“I think I can manage to beat your ass on my own, Lucy. I’m pretty sure you know that already.”

“The balls on this bitch,” Eric mutters. “My God.”

Laura finally decides to acknowledge his insults and taunts with a disgusted look, as though somehow lowering herself by even talking to him. “Oh, shut up, you fucking freak. You’re lucky to be able to breath in my direction!”

That’s the straw that ultimately breaks the camel’s back, making my decision for me. Even though the closest thing to a real fight I’ve ever experienced is play wrestling with my sister when we were kids; I now find myself totally unwilling to back down from the challenge.

“Wow, you really do think you’re God’s gift to the world, don’t you?” Eric scoffs, eyeing her like a bad smell. “I hate to break it to you, Larry, but the sun doesn’t actually shine out of your ass each morning, regardless of what you might think.”

Processing his words, Laura looks mad enough to rip the head right from Eric’s shoulders. “You little piece of-.”

I take a deep breath, then clear my throat.

“You know what, Laura, fine, let’s fucking do this!” I try my very best to sound confident, to keep my voice steady and even. “I’ll see you at the smoker’s pit tomorrow at lunch!”

Laura’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise at something else she wasn’t expecting, her stunned expression making it evident that she hadn’t anticipated my willingness to go along with this idiocy.

“Really?”

“Really, and just so you know, I have every intention of kicking your fucking teeth in.”

That makes her laugh again, but this time it seems forced. She looks slightly concerned at the idea of actually having to fight. I know her well enough to read the thinly veiled emotion on her face, well enough to know she’s more bark than bite when she’s on her own, without her loyal pack of bitches there to back her up.

“Lucy, I was just fucking around,” Eric interjects again, placing a hand on my arm. “I don’t think-.”

“No, I want to do this,” I assure him, reaching up, rubbing the fingers of his hand with my own. His expression is one of worry, so I force a small smile of my own for his benefit. “I’ll be fine, I promise. Just let me do this.”

“Yeah, Eric. Let her do it!” Laura jeers, as though I’d actually been asking for his permission as opposed to just trying to get him to relax. “It’s her funeral!”

The expression of worry on Eric’s face quickly morphs into an irritated scowl as he turns to look at her. “Please just shut it for like five fucking seconds, thunder-cock, the grown-ups are speaking.”

His focus is immediately on me again.

“Come on, Lucy, it’s not a fair fight. Just think about all that testosterone she has in her!”

I don’t need the power of telepathy to know that Laura is mentally skinning him alive as he speaks. “You’re just a dainty little thing, next to you she’s practically the hulk in a damn dress and-.”

“I don’t have a fucking dick, you son of a bitch!” Laura loudly insists, earning laughter and startled glances from several students walking by.

“It’s just the sack you have then, huh?” Eric asks innocently, tilting his head to the side as he awaits her response.

I have a free period before my next class starts and the mention of the smoker’s pit puts me in the mood for a cigarette. Eric’s meant to be in history now, but I don’t protest when he insists on tagging along.

“You get in too much trouble when you’re on your own. It’s just easier this way.”

He pretends that he’s joking, but I know he’s worried about me running into Scott or Larry the thunder-cunt again while I’m on my own. We’re still laughing about her and the incident in the hall on the walk back towards the school.

Today isn’t as hot as yesterday and the heat now feels luxurious as opposed to stifling like it had the day and night previous. We’re not treated to such great weather all that often and I’m grateful to have the chance to soak up whatever sunshine I can get before it’s gone again, giving way to the colder temperatures we’re more accustomed to.

“The look on her face, Eric!” I laugh loudly, throwing my head back. “That was so awesome! She looked like she was going to fucking explode!”

His hand finds mine, fingers intertwining with my own as we walk across the soft grass.

“Sometimes looking at you makes me feel like I’m gonna explode, especially today with you prancing around wearing that flimsy excuse for a pair of shorts...”

Biting down on my lower lip, I fruitlessly attempt to fight a smile, nudging my shoulder against his. “I don’t prance, do I?”

“You pranced right into my heart, didn’t you?”

Eric’s grin is incredibly infectious as he nudges me back and it’s not long until a matching one is on my face.

“You really do look great though, Lucy. Good enough to eat actually...”

“Please behave.”

Eric takes it upon himself to adopt the world’s worst Austin Powers impression;

“Oh behave!”

That finishes me off, sending me back into a fit of near hysterics. He stops walking, smiling widely as I attempt to regain control of myself.

“Will you stop?” I plead, knowing damn well the chances of him relenting now are slim to none.

“Yeah, baby!” Colorado’s answer to Austin Powers replies.

“Eric, quit it! I told you I’ve got to pee, you dick!”

“What if I tickled you?” he asks, grinning at me like the Cheshire cat.

“You wouldn’t fucking dare...”

“Oh, I fucking would...”

“Do you want to hang out with me reeking of piss for the rest of the day?” I snap, continuing to fight the ongoing battle with my bladder.

He pretends to take a moment to think about it, bringing a hand up to rest under his chin, furrowing his brow in mock contemplation.

“Well, I don’t have any classes with you for the rest of the day so it’s really just all your other classmates who’d have to suffer.”

“I’d prefer you didn’t tickle me, thanks!”

We swing our hands back and fourth for no discernible reason as we walk and the sunshine feels almost heavenly.

That’s when I remember.

“Oh shit, I forgot I’m not going to get to see you again until tomorrow once we go back in.”

Eric omits a heavy sigh.

“I did too, but hey, I can still drive you home afterwards at least. We have another twenty minutes or so right there, maybe a half hour if we’re feeling particularly ballsy.”

That’s true, at least we’ll have the drive home.

“I really hate not being able to to hang out with you on weeknights anymore though,” I admit.

“So do I,” he agrees. “I really miss having you around as much as I used to.”

“You miss having sex as often you mean?”

“Well, yeah, of course, but that’s only like ten percent of it.”

“Only ten percent?”

Eric smirks, tongue dancing across his lower lip for just a second. “Okay, maybe twenty.”

Continuing our lazy stroll across the grass, the sun beats down upon us.

“I’ve got algebra next class,” I groan, dreading the prospect already.

“That also sucks,” Eric commiserates. “Especially for a fool like you who struggles with basic multiplication.”

“Oh ha fucking ha, you’re so funny!”

“I must be, how the hell did I manage to land a girlfriend like you if not? My rugged good looks? My natural machismo?”

“I feel sorry for you, remember? That’s the only reason we’re together.”

“Ah yes, that’s right,” he chuckles, nodding his head. “Thanks for all the pity sex by the way.”

“My pleasure.”

Hands swing back and fourth, back and fourth and back and fourth again.

“Believe me, it was no problem whatsoever.”

“You’re practically the Mother Theresa of Columbine, Lucy. I’ve always said that about you. Just ask Dylan.”

He leads me by the hand across the Senior lot, now packed to the gills with cars, only sparsely populated by students.

“Did Mother Theresa get in many cat fights with hermaphrodites back in her day?”

“Only every other week,” he replies with a smile. “Or so I hear.”

“Sounds totally legit. Did Brooks tell you that too?”

“He did actually!” Eric smirks, bringing a hand up to ruffle my hair. “How did you know?”

“Sounds like something he might come out with,” I laugh, batting his hand away from my now undoubtedly messed up hair.

“You should have heard what he told me the pope was really up to!”

We walk along in comfortable silence for a while, swinging our hands along, happy to simply be enjoying the sunshine and one another’s company.

Eric breaks the silence by clearing his throat. “So, you’re really gonna fight thunder-cunt tomorrow then?”

“Yep, looks like it.”

“And there’s nothing I can do to talk you out of it, huh?”

“Nope, nothing.”

“Lucy, I-.”

I stop him there. “Look, she obviously wants to kick my ass anyway. I might as well go for it and try to get a few licks in rather than have her randomly jump me again.”

Eric doesn’t look particularly thrilled by the prospect of us fighting, to say the least. Although he doesn’t verbalize the thought, it’s abundantly clear that he thinks I’m just going to get my ass handed to me again.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea...”

Maybe he’s right, but it does little to dissuade me. I still have every intention of going through with it.

“What about the idea to rob a convenience store, was that a good one? Or the one to break into your place of work to have sex or the one to vandalize your neighbor’s property or-.”

“Alrighty, alright, point made. I may have some unconventional ideas sometimes,” he concedes, “but I’m just a man ahead of my time, Lucy.”

“Sure you are,” I reply with a roll of my eyes. “That’s totally not code for crazy.”

“Even my crazy ass doesn’t think you and her fighting is a good idea, what the fuck does that tell you?”

If the look on his face and tone of his voice are any indication, just the thought of me doing this is making him anxious. Admittedly it’s touching to see him so concerned about my wellbeing, even if it does little to change my mind.

“I just want one shot at her, Eric, that’s all. If we’re going to be leaving this place behind us for good I’d like to leave it with the memory of finally slapping that bitch across the face.”

“Okay, fine, I get that. I guess I can’t stop you, but just know I’ll be standing there with a sizable rock in my hand in case thunder-cunt starts to get the better of you.”

“You are far too good to me, Eric,” I laugh, letting my head rest against his shoulder for a couple of seconds.

“I know this guy named Roy who says he can get his hands on a cat o' nine tails,” he continues. “You remember that house I made a stop at before we went to the bowling alley that day?”

“Yeah,” I nod, smiling at the memory of walking out of the bathroom to find ‘REB VS CUPCAKE’ written on the screen above our lane.

“You bought weed from him, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, that was him. Roy is a pretty cool guy. He claims he used to work for the C.I.A. but I think he’s full of shit personally... Anyway, Roy can totally get you that cat o’ nine tails or maybe even some knuckledusters.”

I have no idea whether he’s serious or not but I can’t claim I’d be hugely surprised either way.

“You know, if that’s something you might be interested in.”

I’m so immersed in the conversation it takes me a minute to realize we’re no longer walking towards the school, but rather Eric’s car.

“Do you need to grab something from the car before we go back?”

He shakes his head, smiling at me. I know him well enough by this point to know exactly what that smile means; he has no intention of us heading back into the building at all.

“I’m not taking you back to that hell hole just yet, Rocky,” he tells me, proving my suspicions correct.

“We can’t keep ditching class, Eric.”

“Oh really, we can’t, huh? Well, let’s try it anyway and see what happens, shall we?” 

I roll my eyes at him, no doubt grinning like an idiot. “I didn’t mean we couldn’t physically do it, I meant-.”

“Lucy...”

“Eric...” 

“Rocky...”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Do you really wanna stay here for another four hours?” he asks softly, bringing his hands to my waist, resting them there. “Or would you rather go on a little adventure with me?” Leaning in, he brushes his nose against mine. “Well?”

I hate myself for giving in so quickly, but the offer is just too tempting to refuse.

Sighing, I bring my arms up, letting them hang over his shoulders, clasping my hands behind his neck. A slow smile forms on Eric’s lips, already knowing my answer before I can articulate the reply.

“Alright, fine, fuck it, let’s go.”

“That a girl, Rock-, I mean, Lucy.”

Taking me by the hand again, he leads me over to the grey Honda prelude parked nearby.

“You know my Dad would skin us both alive if he knew how often we ditched together,” I tell him, sliding into my seat and pulling the door shut behind me.

“Then I guess you better not tell him, huh?”

Eric puts on his sunglasses, then his seatbelt, he fires up the radio and KMFDM blares at an almost deafeningly loud volume.

‘ _Cut these eyes and I will see._  
_Kiss these lying lips for me._  
_Stroke this skin and I will kneel._  
_Brutalize me, I will heal...’_

He turns it down a little, then pulls out of his parking spot, starting to reverse.

“Buckle up, Lucy goosey.”

I do as he says, rolling down the passenger side window and allowing a little fresh air into the stuffy car.

Eric drives with his right hand on the wheel, left arm hanging out the window.

“It’s too damn hot for jeans today,” he complains. “Why the hell did I wear these?”

“You’re probably going to end up having to take them off at some point,” I reply, smiling down at my backpack as I rummage for a pair of sunglasses buried near the bottom.

“If you want me to take my pants off all you have to do is ask. I’d be more than happy to oblige.”

Having opted for shorts and a t-shirt due to the hot weather, the sun shining in through the windscreen warms my bare arms and legs as we drive through the parking lot.

“Where exactly are you taking me today, might I ask?”

Eric stares straight ahead as he drives.

“Sure, you can ask all you want, doesn’t mean I’m gonna tell you.”

“Come on. Just tell me. Where are we going?”

Licking his lips, he brings both hands to the wheel, ignoring my question.

“Eric?”

“Patience, young grasshopper.”

He glances over at me, only to be met with another eye roll.

“Are you kidnaping me?”

“Yes,” he replies simply, smile beginning to grow. “That’s exactly what’s happening.”

“Well, okay then, just so long as I know what’s going on.”

Eric laughs, bringing a hand over and resting it just above my knee as we pull out of the parking lot.

“Seriously though, where the hell are we going?”

He sighs deeply, shaking his head, now starting to drive up the street and away from the building.

“So damn impatient! You’ll find out where we’re going soon enough. I have a surprise for you and I don’t wanna spoil it.”

“A surprise? I thought this was a spur of the moment kind of ditch day.”

Finally finding my sunglasses, I put them on and let myself settle into my chair.

“Not really, I was gonna ask you to take off with me for a while today anyway,” he admits, giving my leg a quick squeeze.

“I’m just glad you said yes.”

We drive for a while, listening to the music, driver and passenger side windows rolled down as far as they can go.

Spotting a gas station up ahead, I ask Eric to pull over.

“I just have to use the bathroom real quick,” I tell him, unbuckling my belt, grabbing my bag from the floor of the car. “I didn’t get the chance to go before we left.”

“Alright, you go ahead. I’m gonna go in and get us some snacks while I’m waiting, want anything in particular?”

“Just you,” I smile as he brings the car to a stop outside the Gas and Gulp.

“Who could blame you, Lucy? I am pretty fucking amazing. Doritos, sound good?”

“Yeah, baby!” I reply with my best, equally awful Austin Powers impression.

Walking towards the door brings back an instant memory of us walking into that other store together, only that time we were wearing ski-masks.

A little girl is stood by the front door, growing frustrated as she slaps the side of a coin-operated toy machine.

Reaching into my pocket, I come up short.

I turn to look at Eric, who rolling his eyes starts to search his own pockets. He produces then hands me a quarter.

“You have to put money in and turn the handle,” I tell her gently, offering the coin over to where it’s taken in a small, sticky looking hand.

“Thanks!” Beaming, she shoves the quarter down into the slot and turns the handle. A squeal of delight leaves her as she lifts the small metal latch, finding a small plastic container inside.

“It’s a diamond ring!” she happily informs us, jumping up and down, proudly holding her prize up in the air.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, I head back out towards the car, finding Eric leaning up against the side of it, tapping his fingers up and down on the face of his watch again, pretending to be annoyed.

“What is it with women and taking so long in the damn bathroom?” he complains, cocking an eyebrow at me as I approach the car.

“Oh shut up, I was like two seconds!”

“Time is money, Peters,” he retorts, grinning to himself as he grips the handle of the driver’s side door.

“What the hell does that even mean in this context?” I ask confusedly, eliciting another laugh from him.

“Whatever you think it does, baby.”

“Hey, can I drive for a while?” Resting a hand on the roof of the car, I await his reply, already knowing the answer. “You can tell me which way to go.”

His eyebrows shoot up, looking at me like I’m demented for even making the suggestion. “Oh, I’ll definitely tell you which way you can go if you think I’m letting you behind the wheel of this car!”

“Oh come on,” I plead, doing so mostly for my own amusement now, well aware of the fact that it’ll get me nowhere, at least where this particular matter is concerned.

“Just for a few minutes. I’m not that bad of a driver!”

Eric laughs, slapping a hand down on the bonnet. “Not on your life, Peters! I’m afraid that sweet ass of yours is stuck riding shotgun. Get in.”

We continue to listen to KMFDM along the journey and there’s no complaints from me, having really started to like their music since he introduced me to them.

Eric seems pleased to learn that I’ve become fond of one of his favorite bands, although he could just be happy I’ve stopped pretending to think they’re called K.F.C. to get a rise out of him.

Staying up most of the night comes back to haunt me once again; tiredness combined with the heat of the day soon rendering me unconscious next to Eric as he drives.

I fight my heavy eyelids, attempting in vain to keep them from fluttering closed a couple of times, then I’m out for the count. The next thing I’m aware of is Eric’s hand on my shoulder, lightly jostling me from my slumber.

“Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey.”

Rubbing sleepily at my eyes, I sit up straight in my chair.

“We’re here, Lucy.”

I yawn, staring out the windscreen at what appears to be the clearing of a forest.

“Where’s here?”

The radio has been turned down even more, but I can faintly hear what sounds like classical music now coming from the speakers.

“You’ll see.”

I turn the radio up a little more. It is classical music.

“Oh, look at you listening to Mozart while I’m asleep, Eric!” I laugh, having no idea what composer is actually responsible for whatever piece of music we’re currently listening to. “Aren’t you fancy?”

“Say what you will about me, there’s no denying the fact that I am one classy motherfucker. I would have thought you’d be used to it by now.”

“Yes, that’s very true,” I reply, voice heavy with sarcasm. I turn the radio back down. “You truly are a paragon of class and sophistication.”

Chuckling softly, he unbuckles his seatbelt. “I know, right? That’s what I’ve always thought at least. I just didn’t want to say it out loud and sound like I was full of myself.”

Leaning over, Eric opens the glove compartment, rummaging around inside until he finds what he wants.

Clutching a pack of camels in one hand, he pats his pockets down with the other.

“There’s something wrong with the damn radio,” he finally admits, frowning as he digs a hand down into the pocket of his jeans. “I couldn’t get the CD to come back on and... Damn it! Where the hell did I leave my lighter?!”

Retrieving my own from the side pocket of my bag, I pass it over to him.

“Danke schön.”

The cigarettes are promptly lit then one is passed over to me. I accept it gratefully, taking a deep drag.

“I did think it was weird you were listening to that, I should have known it wasn’t by choice.”

Eric abruptly exhales a cloud of smoke, looking horribly offended by the comment.

“I’m refined as fuck, Lucy. I listen to that shit all the time. I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a regular Frasier Crane,” I reply amusedly between drags, flicking the ash of my cigarette out the window. “Now will you tell me what the surprise is already?”

Eric takes a long, slow drag of his own, enjoying stretching this out, leaving me in the dark for as long as possible.

“Hmm, I think I might have forgotten now,” he teases with an infuriating shrug of his shoulders. “Oh well.”

“Tell me! Tell me now!” I demand, as impatient as I am excited.

“Alright, alright, chill out, woman, damn. Force my fucking hand, why don’t you?”

Eric’s grin is almost childlike as he finally and excitedly reveals our destination;

“I’m taking you to the forest witch’s castle!”

A trail of smoke billowing from his lips, he climbs out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him.

I’ve barely got my own door open when Eric appears at the other side of the car, chivalrously offering me a hand.

“Why, thank you, kind Sir.” I take it graciously, smiling at him as I climb out, listening to the sweet sound of birdsong somewhere in the distance.

“You’re most welcome, fair wench.”

Ahead of us spans a wide variety of trees, sprawled out as far as the eye can see.

“Hey, why do I have to be a wench? Can’t I be like a princess or something instead?”

Long branches stretch out overhead, creating a canopy of every shade of green you could possibly envision right above us and the car.

“No, you’re a wench. It’s already been decided.”

“By who?” I scoff, shutting the car door behind me with a thud. “You? Who are you to call the shots like that?”

“I’m King of this forest,” Eric informs me, straightening his posture. Taking my hand in his again, he starts to lead me through the clearing. “And I declare you, Lucy Peters, a wench.”

“And I declare you, Eric Harris, King of the forest, an asshole.”

He laughs at that, throwing his head back as he walks. “Would it help if I said you were a wench of the fairest and most buxom variety?” he asks with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“No, Eric, somehow it wouldn’t.”

He jumps up, pulling himself onto the now horizontal trunk of a large fallen over tree blocking our path.

“Can’t I be Queen of the forest, since I’m so fair and buxom and all that?”

Offering me a hand, he helps pull me up next to him, feet nearly slipping against the damp vegetation on the bark.

We sit atop it for a moment, taking in the view of the forest, continuing our discussion.

“No, the King has spoken and the decision has been made. Now get ready to follow me through this enchanted forest, fair wench, and be sure to stay close. We have no idea what dark and fearsome creatures lurk within...”

Eric jumps down first, boots crunching in a pile of leaves and branches on the other side.

“You’re such a fucking nerd, do you know that?” I jump down after him, landing on uneven footing and nearly falling again. I’m steadied in his arms as he starts to laugh at me.

“You dare speak to your King in such a manner! Have you no regard for your life!”

“I’m starting to think I should have just gone to algebra after all...”

Eric’s jaw drops in faux offense, provoking a small smile, then he throws an arm around my shoulder.

“Then you’d never get to see the witch’s castle.”

“Oh, perish the thought, my King!”

“Damn, I kinda liked that... Hey, call me that again.”

“No,” I reply, fighting off another smile.

“You’re gonna be glad you came along, Lucy,” he insists with a grin, bumping his shoulder against my own. “Trust me, until we get there just try to relax and enjoy the beauty of nature... and all that shit.”

We venture forward through the woodland, the sounds of birds and various small critters permeating the air as we explore. After walking for a while we hear the sound of rushing water in the distance.

I’m busy admiring a series of pretty purple flowers growing along the side of a tree when Eric glances back over his shoulder at me.

“We’re almost there.”

After a few more paces he stops walking entirely and turns to face me. “Alright, close your eyes.” 

I roll them again instead. “I’m not closing my eyes, Eric, especially walking through here. I’m clumsy enough when I can actually see where I’m going.”

He rolls his right back, that oh so familiar smirk playing on his lips. The sun shines down upon us through gaps in the sea of trees, both illuminating and casting shadows on his face.

“You’ll do as your King commands, you damn peasant!”

I begin to laugh, making my amusement evident as Eric walks behind me, clamping his hands down over my eyes.

“I’ve been demoted from wench to peasant, huh? That doesn’t seem fair. I’m seriously starting think you should be deposed as King of the forest.”

“Treason!” he cries, voice echoing through the trees. Long slender arms wrap around me from behind, gripping me tightly. “You will respect your King!”

“Fuck you!” I cry, barely able to contain my laughter as I pretend to struggle in his arms. “I won’t respect shit! I swear to God, I’m going to help Brooks usurp your throne!”

He spins me around to face him. “Oh hell no, I know you didn’t just say that! Alright, that’s it, I’ve given you enough chances!”

A hand atop either of my shoulders, Eric’s expression turns stern, serious, almost dark. “I sentence your sorry wench ass to death by tickles!”

After tickling me within an inch of my sanity, I’m forced to relent; agreeing to close my eyes and allow Eric to take me by the hand and lead me along blindly through the woods with him.

The sound of rushing water intensifies as we walk through the thick brush and once or twice Eric has to instruct me to stop and lower my head as to avoid walking directly into branches.

“Can’t I just open my eyes?”

“No,” he stubbornly insists, giving my hand a quick squeeze. “Don’t you dare peek!”

The forest itself a living, breathing thing, provides a constant, soothing soundtrack to our journey as we traverse along, leaves and branches crunching underfoot.

“Do you think there might be cannibals roaming around out here too?” I joke, suddenly remembering the night he and I went up into the mountains in particularly vivid detail.

Those fireworks were such a pleasant, not to mention romantic, surprise. We ended up back at Dylan’s place afterwards, planning to spend the rest of the night in his pool house, but then Eric and I had left. We went and snuck into Blackjack and...

That small couch in back.

“Nah, those fuckers mostly like to keep to the mountains,” Eric informs me with a chuckle. “It’s just Bigfoot, ravenous bears and the forest witch we need to worry about now.”

Eyes still closed, I attempt to pull my mind from the gutter, knowing I’m likely blushing again. “Well, since I can’t see shit right now, I’d sincerely appreciate a heads up if you happen to see any of those things, okay?”

“Okay, Lucy,” Eric laughs, wrapping an arm around my shoulder to help guide me.

Instructing me to walk a little slower now, we start to progress downward some sort of slope together. “I’ll do my best but no promises, I may need to use you as a distraction while I make my escape.”

I don’t peek, but am tempted to several times, especially after nearly walking right into what Eric amusedly informs me is a “fucking humungous” oak tree.

“Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

The view upon doing so is breathtaking, leaving me in awe that such a place could have existed, so close and without my knowledge for most of my life.

We’re stood by a large picturesque lake, sunshine dancing along the surface, creating a glimmering effect. A huge wall of rock is stood behind it, a massive stone monument carved into shape over time by the elements.

Huge and ancient trees stand guard not far away with long, twisted limbs coming together and separating this secret paradise from the rest of the forest.

Looking around, taking in our surroundings, I notice a number of strange and unusual plants and flowers I don’t recall ever having seen before, even having spent a decent portion of my childhood exploring the woods with my Dad.

“Eric, this is... fucking beautiful,” I tell him, uttering what may very well be the understatement of the century, finding myself a little too awestruck to be any more articulate with my choice of words.

“I like to come here sometimes to think. It’s the only place I’ve found here in Colorado that really feels special to me,” he admits with a shrug of his shoulders.

“I don’t know, there’s just something about this place that makes it feel like nobody else has been here for a thousand years. Almost like you’ve entered another world entirely and can finally be alone with your thoughts, far away from all the noise, all the bullshit and random chaos of the outside world.”

He gets quiet then, staring down at his boots for a moment or two before looking back up at me, biting down on his lower lip. “Well, what do you think? Was it worth the trip, was it worth missing your precious algebra class for?”

“It’s amazing, really. Thank you for bringing me here. I love it.”

He takes a few seconds to soak up the beauty around us, looking more relaxed, more at peace than I might have ever seen him.

“I’m really glad you like it. I hope this doesn’t sound creepy or anything but I’ve actually wanted to bring you here since that first day we talked back in Freshman year,” he laughingly admits.

Freshman year? What is he talking about? Eric and I never spoke to one another up until a few weeks ago at that party, not that I can recall anyway. I tell him as much, but I’m soon proved wrong.

“I know you probably don’t remember this, but we actually had a pretty long conversation a few years ago. You came up to me one day during lunch, you even sat down next to me. You don’t remember, do you?”

I’m forced to admit that I don’t.

Eyeing him skeptically, I’m almost certain that he’s fucking with me now, not remembering this alleged encounter at all.

“We talked about the fact that it was snowing outside and you told me how excited you were about some art exhibition your Dad was taking you to that weekend.”

A vague memory comes to me then and I gasp aloud at the sudden realization that he’s telling the truth. I remember it now.

Laura and I had an argument that day and unsurprisingly our other friends had taken her side. Feeling sorry for myself, I’d skulked into the cafeteria on my own, sitting down next to the only other person in the immediate vicinity that was also on their own. That person had been Eric.

“I was so excited when you came over and sat down next to me. I couldn’t believe what was happening but then Scott came over and asked you to have lunch with him, so you got up and left, but my God, Lucy... I had such a huge fucking crush on you after that.”

As terrible as I feel for having forgotten this completely up until now, I’m moved beyond comprehension at both his words and his apparent endurance. I had no idea he liked me or even thought about me at all before that night at the party, let alone that he’s apparently been pinning over me for as long as he claims to have been.

“It never really went away either. Even when I started to like another girl I’d always catch myself staring at you in English, wishing I had the courage to go over and talk to you whenever I saw you at your locker...”

“Why didn’t you remind me that we talked before? How come you never mentioned this up until now?”

Eric shrugs his shoulders again, almost looking embarrassed for having allowed himself permission to be vulnerable, however temporarily.

“I don’t know, I guess I didn’t wanna bring it up once I realized you’d forgotten about it. It clearly meant a lot more to me at the time than it did to you.”

Pulling him into a hug, I bury my face in the crook of his neck. Eric runs a hand up and down my back, chuckling softly at the unexpected embrace. “Are you just hugging me now because you feel bad?”

“No, and I never forgot that conversation, Eric, not completely.”

“Yeah, right,” he laughs, clearly calling bullshit on that one. “Sure you didn’t. It’s cool if you don’t remember, Lucy. It was years ago after all.”

“No, Eric, I didn’t forget. I may have forgotten it was you but I never forgot that a sweet boy I didn’t know let me sit with him, that he gave me someone to talk to when I just had a huge fight with my best friend and felt like the world was ending. When I was sad and alone in a strange new school and needed nothing more than someone to talk to.”

Deciding we’re being gross now, far too sappy and sentimental for our own good; we make the decision to wrap this little impromptu love-fest up before venturing onward.

The entrance leading to the witch’s castle is hidden behind a substantial growth of shrubbery and trees. Wandering through the thicket, I eventually see what looks to be the mostly standing ruins of an old mansion.

As we get nearer, I observe that the building is wrapped in the embrace of one of the biggest trees I’ve ever seen in my life; a seemingly never ending stream of thick, intertwined branches stretching out across the walls and roof.

Vegetation, moss and random assortments of tiny multicolored flowers decorate the gaps in between the pretty latticework that covers half the building; provided by Mother Nature herself, in the form of the monolithic tree stood next to the house.

Although clearly sat abandoned for quite some time, it’s obvious this place must have been a thing of great beauty in its day, with all its grand architecture, in such a fairytale-esque location. It possesses an entirely different, far more rugged and wild sort of beauty now.

“So, what’s the deal with this witch?” I ask, shining the flashlight Eric keeps in his car around what I presume used to be a living room. “And why is this place called a castle?”

Most of the windows have long ago been boarded up and we’re immersed in near total darkness immediately upon entering the house.

“There was a woman named Anna who used to live here, all alone out in the woods in this huge house,” Eric begins to tell the story, walking over to where I’m crouched down, examining the intricate design around the fireplace, flashlight in hand.

“Rumor has it is she was one of the most beautiful women around at the time, the young widow of a rich solider who died at war and left her this place all to herself. The locals called it the witch’s castle because of the size and because Anna was rumored to have supernatural powers...”

“... People who she’d had disagreements with in the past started mysteriously dying and of course, it wasn’t long before all the town’s people started pointing an accusatory finger at the eccentric, wealthy lady living all alone out in the forest...”

“What ended up happening to her?” I ask, genuinely curious about her eventual fate.

“Well, one night, when the moon was full, an angry mob marched through these very woods in search of her and poor Anna was dragged kicking and screaming from her home...”

Shining the light towards the roof, he pauses and together we stare up at a huge cobweb covered chandelier dangling just above our heads.

“A noose was pushed down over her head and tightened around her neck...”

Eric’s voice, usually a comfort, is almost bone-chilling now as he recounts the tale of the forest witch in this dark and creepy, albeit gorgeous old house.

“They blamed her for everything that had gone wrong in the area. If anyone got sick, it was Anna’s fault, if anyone had finical problems it was because she put a spell on them. They only targeted her because she was different from them, because she was alone. They ended up hanging her from that huge tree outside...”

A sudden chill rises up my spine at that last sentence.

“I don’t know if you saw it or not. Any chance you happened to notice that gigantic ass tree wrapped around half the house?” he asks, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Eric and I explore huge, dusty room after huge, dusty room, discovering that the eerily beautiful old place is sparsely decorated with the remnants of long abandoned furniture.

The building itself is interesting as well as beautiful, with various unique features to admire throughout, but there’s definitely an eery vibe in the air. Never one to miss an opportunity to mess with me, Eric decides to hide when my back is turned.

Walking along the hall in search of him, the floorboards in the next room begin to creek, taking away any element of surprise if he does intend to frighten me as I suspect.

“I know you’re in there, Eric. I can hear you walking around, you fool.”

Waiting outside the door for him to emerge, I quickly grow bored and venture off down the hall on my own, shining the flashlight around, illuminating my path as I walk.

Passing several doors on either side of me as I go, I soon reach the end of the hall. Barely able to make out the outline of large wooden frame on the wall to my right, I point the torch at it to get a better look.

The thick mahogany frame borders a large and imposing oil paining; its subject a devastatingly beautiful woman with alabaster skin and long ebony waves flowing down to her waist.

Is this Anna? Is this the unjustly persecuted witch of the forest?

Shivering slightly, I realize the room suddenly seems a few degrees colder than it did a moment before. Down the hall, I faintly hear the creek of floorboards again.

“Eric!” I call his name out through the darkness, eyes still focused on the woman in the painting, almost unable to look away. “Come here for a minute and look at this!”

When there’s no reply, I head back down the hall with a heavy sigh, bracing myself for the extremely likely possibility of him jumping out from nowhere and scaring the absolute crap out me. “If you try to frighten me I swear to God, I’m leaving your ass, Harris!”

Much to my dismay, the flashlight begins to flicker on and off. “Come on you piece of shit,” I mutter, slapping it and down against the palm of my hand a few times. “Don’t give up on me now.”

Eric just changed the batteries in this stupid thing the other day; having last ran out of juice that night out on the highway when his car broke down.

It comes back on.

“Finally.”

He’s moving around and the sound of his footsteps on the old floorboards becomes progressively louder the closer I get.

“Is that you I hear, Eric? Or has the forest witch eaten my boyfriend?”

Although the witch’s castle has certainly seen better days, it’s hard to deny that the architecture of this place is stunning.

Shining the flashlight as I walk, I admire a series of large, seashell shaped sconces mounted along the wall, wondering a thousand different things at once about the woman who used to live here.

“You better not have eaten him, Anna. How the hell do you expect me to explain this shit to Kathy and Wayne?”

I stop just outside the room, finding the door now closed, then the flashlight dies out on me.

“Are you jacking off in there, Eric? Is that why you closed the door?”

I hit the flashlight against my hand again and thankfully, it comes back on.

Reaching for the door handle, I stop dead in my tracks, hearing another sound from the other end of the hall.

“Eric?”

I point the flashlight back up towards the direction I just came from, heart starting to beat a little harder in my chest.

The room seems even colder now and I’m certain my bare arms are covered in goosebumps.

“I’m up here, Lucy!” Eric calls out through the darkness, waving the flame of his lighter in the air.

My blood runs cold. Eric is stood at the opposite end of the hall.

“I’m telling you someone was in there!” I insist, heart still beating erratically as we maneuver our way through the maze of branches outside.

I can’t seem to move fast enough.

“Sure there was, Lucy,” Eric looks back over his shoulder at me disbelievingly.

“I’m not fucking with you!”

“I believe that you believe you heard something. You are tired though, Lucy. Maybe it was just your mind playing tricks on you.”

He’s right, I’m being ridiculous.

“You’re probably right,” I agree, looking down at the goosebumps that have yet to vanish from my arms, despite the heat. “I’ll probably be expecting Bigfoot to jump out at us next.

“I doubt you need to worry too much about that, Lucy.” A hearty laugh escapes Eric’s throat as he ducks beneath a branch jutting out from a tall oak tree.

“I’m pretty sure Dylan’s 7’4 ass is still back at school. He’s not lurking around in the woods, he’s sleeping his way through creative writing.”

Much to my relief, we soon arrive back at the lake. Walking over towards the edge of the water, Eric sets himself down next to it with a groan.

“When I was a kid and I got scared or things got too much for me, do you know what I used to do?”

The lake looks even more serene from here, appearing almost like an oasis. Joining him by the edge, I lower myself to the ground.

“No, what did you do?”

“I used to hide in my closet.” Eric laughs, shaking his head dismissively at the memory as though ashamed to be recounting it. “I was the fucking best at hide and seek as a kid.”

“Is this where you go when you want to hide now?”

“Maybe, sometimes, but I don’t really feel the need to try and hide as much anymore.” Eric stares down at his hands for a moment, then back up at me, smiling almost shyly.

“I know this probably makes me sound like a total pussy, but it’s a little easier to face the world when I’m with you.”

It feels like we’re the last two people on Earth as we sit there by the water’s edge, blissfully basking in the heat of the sun, the beauty of nature and in one another.

“You’re as sweet as molasses, Eric, as my crazy aunt Ginger would say.”

“Is she the one who grabbed me the other night at the barbecue?” Eric shudders visibly recalling the memory.

“Yeah, that was her.”

“That experience definitely wasn’t sweet as molasses, I can tell you that much.”

After devouring a bag of chips while enjoying a very involved Ace Ventura impression, Eric and I decide to go swimming.

“You’re not leaving the shorts and t-shirt on, are you?” he complains, tugging his own shirt off over his head and discarding it on the grass, watching as I make my way into the water.

“Yeah, I am. Fuck it. They’ll dry off in the sun.” I’m only knee deep but the water already feels incredible against my skin.

“Oh, come on,” he grumbles, sloshing through the water, following closely behind. “I only agreed to get in because I thought we were gonna be skinny-dipping!”

My smile grows wider as I submerge myself further in the lake, now almost waist deep.

“Get naked, damn it!” he laughingly demands, sending a wave of water flying up at my back. “This is some bullshit of the highest order!”

Wading through the water, turning around, I send both arms flying upward, creating a far larger wave and completely soaking him.

Eric blinks slowly a couple of times, droplets of water falling from his hair, nose and eyelashes. “Oh, you’re in for it now, Peters! Get your ass back here!”

He reaches his arms out, heading straight towards me, smiling far too deviously.

“No, damn you! Get away from me!”

“Come on, Lucy, take your punishment like a man, take it like thunder-cunt would!”

I can’t help grinning back. Then I’m beneath the glimmering surface of the water, finally starting to swim as I take off ahead of him.

After he catches up to me and the splash war finally ends; we find ourselves kissing, arms draped over his shoulders as our lips meet again and again and again.

It’s hard to believe I’d ever questioned the plan now, here with him, kissing in the peaceful waters of a place that looks like something straight out of a fantasy novel.

Every day could be like this if we wanted.

“Let’s get out, Eric, my fingers are starting to prune up like that old lady in Titanic.”

“I’ll never let go, Jack!” he cries, bringing a hand up to his bare chest and placing it over his heart. “I’ll never let go!”

He takes a deep breath then disappears beneath the water again, so I take one of my own and follow suit. I look around, searching for his blurry visage through the water. Long fingers wrap around my wrist from behind. Turning around, the same hand finds its way up to the back of my neck, fingers sliding into my hair as he pushes my head forward. Coming closer, he smiles, a few tiny air bubbles rising from his lips. It’s already become a little hard to keep holding my breath, but I smile back before we kiss anyway. 

Laying on my side by the edge of the lake, I watch as Eric continues to swim, leisurely floating along on his back for the most part, occasionally dipping beneath the surface.

Spotting his jeans laying near by, it suddenly occurs to me that I’ve never seen his license photo before.

I glance back up to see if he’s watching, but Eric is nowhere to be seen and the lake appears undisturbed.

He must be under the water.

Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, I quickly find his wallet and pull it out, curiosity having got the best of me.

An immediate smile is brought to my face upon cracking it open; finding that now slightly crinkled photo Laura took of Eric and I at the fair, side by side, matching shotgun style water-guns in hand.

He kept it in his wallet this whole time.

A happy sigh escapes me as I fall back onto the soft grass, staring up at the sky.

“Hey, what the fuck were you doing going through my wallet?!”

My heart leaps up into my throat when I unexpectedly see Eric standing next to me, frowning down at me as I look up at him. His open wallet is still laying next to me.

“Oh fuck, Eric, I’m so sorry, I just wanted to see your license pho-.”

Thankfully, he starts to laugh. “Relax, I’m just fucking with you. It’s cool if you wanna go through my wallet.”

As nice as that is of him to say, I still feel ashamed for both doing it and getting caught in the act.

“Just like it’s cool that I read your diary from time to time.”

“You do what?!”

“Don’t get mad, Lucy, I just skim through a couple of pages occasionally when you leave the room to go to the bathroom or whatever. I didn’t read the whole thing. Just the good parts.”

“Eric, that’s such an invasion of my privacy!”

“Says the woman who just went through my wallet and probably tried to rob me!”

“I did not, you asshole!”

“Here’s tonight’s entry, ‘Dear Diary, today Eric tried to drown me in a lake because I was being a pain in the ass! That being said, he’s definitely the cutest guy in the whole entire world, XOXO Lucy...’”

“Are you done?” I sigh, trying to suppress a laugh.

“Not yet.” Eric clears his throat, then continues, adopting a high-pitched attempt at a woman’s voice as he finishes up his taunt. “I just can’t wait to marry him, to call myself Mrs. Harris and have five million of his babies!’ Okay, now I’m done.”

“That is exactly what I was going to write, Eric. However did you know?”

“I really liked that entry from last week where you talked about how magnificent my cheekbones are and how hot you think I look since I got my last hair cut...”

I’m beyond mortified.

“Oh My God! You weren’t supposed to read that!”

“Don’t be embarrassed, Lucy, that shit was flattering as hell. You honestly made my damn month,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “Even if at first I thought you must be cheating on me with some other guy named Eric!”

If I found out Scott had read my diary while we were dating, I would have dumped him on the spot as well as tearing him a new asshole for his trouble. It’s significantly harder for me to stay mad at Eric or even get truly angry with him in the first place.

“Are you pissed at me now? You said you didn’t want us to ever lie to each other and-.”

“I’m not pissed,” I interrupt, bringing a hand up to cup his face, effectively silencing him. “I don’t have any secrets from you anyway.”

Even if I was a little pissed, I wouldn’t have much of a leg to stand on getting mad after having just riffled through his wallet.

Eric’s responding smile is soft, sweet and all but turns my knees to jelly.

“Will you marry me?” he suddenly blurts.

“What did you just say?!”

I feel my eyes widen involuntarily at the question, certain I must have misheard him.

“Come on, Lucy, I’ve been working up the nerve to ask you this for days! Please don’t make me do it again!”

Holy shit, is he serious?

Eric drops to one knee, looking up at me expectantly, clasping one of my hands between two of his. That’s when it dawns on me that he is in fact serious.

“Well, don’t leave me in suspense all fucking day! Will you marry me or what?!”

“Of course I will, you dumbass!”

“Yeah?” he grins, rising to his feet again.

“For real?”

“Yes, for real!”

Then I’m in his arms again, lifted upward as he holds me against him, spinning us around in a circle. Laughing, my feet touch solid ground once more, arms draped over his shoulders again.

“As we learned last week, we’re not exactly church people,” he chuckles. “So what would you say to a Mickey and Mallory style wedding right here, right now, in lieu of a more traditional service?”

“Are you serious?”

I naturally assumed he meant some time in the distant future and in an actual church.

“As a mild cardiac infarction.”

“Just say heart attack, you dick.”

Eric laughs, taking my hands in his, hazel eyes staring into mine.

“Just say yes, you bitch.”

And once again I find myself swept up in him, lost completely in the moment.

“This is perfect. Just you and me, here by the water, surrounded by nature with the sun shining down on us. What more could we possibly ask for?”

“We can’t really do it like Mickey and Mallory did though.”

“Why not?”

“We don’t have a knife, unfortunately.”

Eric smiles in a way that informs me the case is quite the contrary. Retrieving his backpack from the ground, he soon pulls out a small knife, still in its casing.

“Why the hell do you carry a knife around?”

“I told you already, cannibals and forest witches. You know, listening to one another is one of the most important aspects of maintaining a relationship... maybe you should try it sometime.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be sure to get right on that, Tony Robbins,” I reply dryly, surprised I don’t strain an eye muscle from rolling them so hard.

“Are we doing this or what?”

He slides the knife from its sheath and the blade gleans brightly in the sunlight. That’s when I notice the design on the handle.

“Please tell me that’s not a fucking swastika...”

“So, what if it is?” He shrugs his shoulders dismissively. “It’s a cool knife.”

“The nazis weren’t cool though, were they?”

Eric stares at me wordlessly, twirling the knife between his fingers.

“Were they?” I repeat the question, now unable to prevent myself from scowling a little at him.

He starts to smirk, continuing to play the knife. “I know what answer you want me to give...”

“Oh shut up, Eric, you’re not funny.”

“Yeah, I am. I’m a damn laugh riot.”

“Why would you even want to own something like that? I don’t get it.”

“It’s just a knife, Lucy. I didn’t go out and buy it, a friend gave it to me as a gift,” he explains. “You can relax, I’m not about to go turning into Hitler 2.0.”

Maybe I am overreacting, I already knew he was interested in weapons and owned a couple of knives. And like he said, he didn’t go out deliberately looking to purchase nazi memorabilia.

“Here,” Eric says, offering the small knife over to me. “You do me and I’ll do you.”

I can’t help but take the bait.

“That’s what she said.”

The two of us laugh as I take the knife from him. Gripping it in my right hand I take Eric’s hand in my left, turning it palm side up.

“You ready?”

He nods his head, wincing slightly as I quickly slide the blade across the palm of his hand. “Woo! Alright, Lucy Goosey, your turn!”

I hand him the knife, then he holds his bloodied left hand out to claim my own. I hesitate for a second, staring almost admiringly at the stark contrast of the crimson line against the white of his skin.

“Come on, pussy. Give me your hand.”

Stepping forward, I place my hand palm upwards atop his, gritting my teeth in anticipation.

“Ready?”

“Do it.”

He runs the blade across my hand, forming a small and shallow cut, just deep enough to draw blood.

Standing by the water’s edge, hand in hand, bloodied palm to bloodied palm; we watch as ruby red droplets make their descent, disappearing down into the lake.

“I, balls of steel Harris, take you, Lucy Goosey, to be my wife for as long as we both shall live. Through sickness and in health, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, yada yada fucking yada... you know the drill.”

Eric grins, shrugging his shoulders. “I love the hell out of you, Lucy. That’s all I really wanted to say.”

Another drop of blood hits the water, then another.

“I know we’re not in all the oceans now, Eric, but we are in a beautiful lake in Colorado,” I smile, staring down at our bloody clasped hands dangling above the water. “And I love the hell out of you too.”

He lets go of my hand just long enough to pop open the lid of the small plastic container he has in his pocket.

“I hope you didn’t steal that from the little girl while I was in the bathroom...”

Eric starts to laugh, nearly dropping the gas station wedding ring into the grass beneath us.

“I won’t lie to you, I thought about it!” 

With both of us still laughing, he takes my hand in his again, sliding the now slightly bloody ring onto my finger.

“Until death do us part...”

The kiss starts off soft and sweet but quickly grows more passionate, hands roaming up and down the length of my body, all over the still dripping clothes clinging to my skin.

“Eric, I’ll love you until I’m old and grey and senile, making shitty poetry in a retirement home somewhere.” 

“Lucy, I’ll love you until...” he pauses, that’s when the mischievous smirk makes its return. “Well, let’s just wait and see what you look like at forty, alright?”

I let that one go quite willingly, too happy to even feign annoyance, then I’m kissing him again.

“You know what I’d really love right now?” I ask, eventually managing to pry my lips from his.

“What’s that?” he asks amusedly, eyes looking down at my lips.

“A big chocolate milkshake, the size of my fucking arm.”

“I think that’s doable,” he chuckles.

Eric plants another one on me, then another.

“Do you think we have time?” I ask, taking his wrist in my hand, holding it up so I can look at his watch. “We’ve already skipped half the day?”

“Of course we do, Lucy Goosey. Don’t talk crazy. There’s always time for milkshakes.”

Lost in a debate over which milkshake flavor is the superior one; Eric and I walk out of the small store, sipping from the results of our differing opinions.

Continuing down the sidewalk we approach the window of a small pawn shop just a few doors down from the ice-cream store.

Eric sees something in the window that piques his interest, stopping him in his tracks right there on the pavement. An old fancy looking revolver, with some sort of engraving etched along the side has caught his eye.

“Hey, man, how much do you want for that piece back there in the window?”

A curmudgeonly looking old man is sat in a rocking hair behind the counter of the small pawn shop when we walk in, head buried in a newspaper. He glances up only briefly at Eric’s question.

“How old are you, kid?”

“Oh, I’m not a kid. I know I look young for my age but I’m actually twenty-two.”

I’m surprised to see him lying, especially so confidently.

“Twenty-two is still a kid in my book, young man,” the old man mutters, eyes still glued to the paper. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as even being that old from just from looking at you though.”

“Why, thank you,” Eric forces a small laugh, strolling over towards the window, arms folded behind his back. “I’ll take that as a compliment. So, can I have a look at that bad boy?”

“Sure you can,” the old man tells him, finally folding the paper closed and setting it atop the counter. “I’ll just need to see some I.D to prove that you’re of age first, that okay with you, bad boy?”

That makes me laugh. Oh well, it was a nice try anyway.

Eric isn’t willing to give up that easily however.

“I’m telling you, dude, I’m twenty-two.”

Returning to my side, he proceeds to run a hand up and down the length of my back. “The old ball and chain here can vouch for me, can’t you, honey?”

Looking back and fourth between Eric and the pawn shop owner, I’m temporarily at a loss for words. “That’s right, dear,” I reply, nodding my head, still a little floored at being referred to as his wife, even in slang terms. “You turn twenty-three next week.”

“Can your old ball and chain show me some I.D.?”

“Come on, man, I bet the thing isn’t even loaded, I just want to look at it!”

“You can look from here, can’t you?”

A frustrated Eric frowns at him for a moment before giving up, sighing as he walks away in defeat. “Come on, Lucy, let’s just go.”

I’m about to follow him when I have an idea that sends me walking over towards the counter instead. “Just wait one second.”

The old man raises an eyebrow as I come to a stop in front of him. My fingers trace along the chain of the necklace that I’m wearing, the necklace I’m almost always wearing.

“How much will you give me for this?” I ask, already massively conflicted about what I’m about to do. “It’s real silver.”

“You’ll have to take it off and give me a look at it first, obviously.”

Bringing my hands up to the back of my neck, I begin to fumble with the clasp.

“Lucy, what the hell are you doing?” Eric demands.

“Getting us some money,” I inform him. With a heavy sigh and an equally heavy heart, I hand my once treasured necklace over to the old man behind the counter for assessment.

“No, you’re not pawning your damn necklace!” Eric angrily replies. “Stop it! Stop it right now! Don’t you dare fucking give that to him!”

I pawn it regardless, receiving far less money than it was worth in exchange. The finical loss doesn’t bother me, but rather the instantaneous feelings of ingratitude and betrayal I experience upon selling it.

Walking back to the car, I count the money again, shuffling the notes between my fingers.

“I can’t believe you did that.” Eric shakes his head disappointedly, having spent a good ten minutes trying to talk me out of it. “You loved that thing, didn’t your Dad give it to you for your birthday?”

“Yeah,” I reply with a nod, trying to pretend I don’t feel incredibly guilty for having parted with it. 

”But I said I’d do whatever it took to get some money together for us and I meant it. I know it’s not much but it’s something. I’m serious about this. I’m serious about you and me.”

“It’s you and I, Lucy, not you and me.”

“Oh fuck off, you know what I mean!”

By this point the school day is nearly over so instead of heading back we drive around, listening to music and shooting the shit for a little bit longer before he drops me off at home. 

“Can you believe that dick wouldn’t even let me look at that revolver? I should go back there later tonight and torch the damn place!” 

The car comes to a stop just outside my house. 

“You’re not killing anyone on our wedding day,” I tell him, quoting another favorite line of mine from the movie.

“Just three more days, Lucy. Just seventy two hours and this place is nothing but a bad fucking memory.”

I give him one long, lingering kiss before turning to open the handle of the car door. 

“I know, I can’t fucking wait. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?” 

“Like hell you will! Tonight is technically our wedding night and we need to make this thing official. We have to consecrate our union in the eyes of the dark lord.”

“You mean Satan?”

“I do.”

“Did you learn nothing in church last week?”

“Only that I hate church.”

His face gets serious then and he starts to look slightly uncomfortable, shuffling a little awkwardly in his chair.

“I’m just screwing around, Lucy. You know, I would totally understand if you wanted to wait a little while before we do anything... psychical again. I’d completely get it if you just wanted to cuddle or maybe-.”

“Wait a while?” I interrupt, confused. “Why would we wait a while?”

“It’s just...” Eric seems to be struggling with the words, running a hand along the back of his neck. “We haven’t really done anything since Scott... since that bastard tried to...”

As his voice trails off, his expression begins to change again, growing darker, more intense.

“Since he tried to...”

Without warning Eric brings a first flying towards the steering wheel, causing me to jump a little in my chair.

“Fuck! That stupid motherfucker!”

“Eric, it’s okay, chill, I’m fine! You’re fine! It’s alright!” I place an arm on his shoulder. Looking up at me anger quickly seems to give way to sadness.

“It’s not alright though, is it?” He sighs, face suddenly wracked with unnecessary guilt. “I can’t fucking believe I nearly let that happen, Lucy. I was just downstairs for a few minutes and that fucker could have-.”

“But he didn’t,” I interrupt again, horrified that he could feel is any way responsible for what happened. “You didn’t let him, Eric, and none of it was your fault. You saved me.”

“Yeah?” he asks, managing a small smile.

“Yeah,” I tell him gently, reaching over and taking the hand that just assaulted a steering wheel.

“Can you come over tonight around one? Mom and Dad should be asleep by then.”

Eric smiles genuinely then, a wide grin appearing on his face in response to the question.

“Absofuckinglutely.”

”See you later tonight, Mrs. Harris. I’ll be counting down the seconds.”

“That’s Mrs. balls of steel Harris to you!” I correct him, enjoying the sound of his laughter as I open the car door.

“But so will I.”

Stood on the pavement outside my house, a hand still resting atop the passenger side door, a sad sigh escapes me as I stare back back into the car at him; positively loathing the fact that he can’t just come inside with me right now.

“Believe me, so will I.”


	16. Despite All My Rage, I Am Still Just A Rat In A Cage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *soap opera style voiceover*
> 
> Previously on Sawed-off Sanctuary; Lucy and Eric ditch school to go get married in the woods, almost getting eaten by a ghost witch in the process. What’s next for our dynamic duo? Keep reading my deranged ramblings to find out!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is literally just a big ball of cheesy cheese with extra cheese on top. Lactose intolerant folk might want to tread lightly here, this installment may very well kill you.

Months upon months of meticulous planning, unwavering dedication and countless late nights have finally paid off; culminating in the launch of Eric’s very own game. Standing before the huge display of games in front of us, I can’t help but radiate with pride at seeing his dream having finally come to fruition.

“And to think Mom and Dad used to accuse me of wasting my time by staying up all night on the computer!”

“All in the name of research, eh?”

“Exactly, I wasn’t staying up until 4:00am playing Doom for the good of my health, Lucy.”

“Do you have any idea how proud I am of you? All your hard work has finally paid off. You finally did it!”

“We finally did it,” he corrects me, throwing an arm over my shoulder. “I never could have done this without you, you know.”

“Oh, stop being so modest, it doesn’t suit you. Besides, It was all you. I just designed the artwork.”

“Well, you did a damn good job and you supported me every step of the way. There’s no doubt in my mind that I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you,” he says it so sweetly it’s impossible for me to resist the urge to plant a small kiss on his lips, right there in the middle of the busy store. “And I mean that in more ways than one.”

“Daddy, can I get a damn Barbie doll?” the little girl stood by our side asks, staring up at us with a set of wide, hazel colored eyes. Eric and I exchange a quick look of concern before we start to laugh. “Of course you can, princess,” he replies, beaming down at her. “Just don’t say that word anymore, alright?”

“Barbie doll?” she asks, furrowing her tiny brow in confusion, provoking more laughter from the two of us.

“No, baby,” he chuckles, crouching down next to her so he’s on her level. “Don’t say damn, okay? It’s not a very nice word.”

“Then why do you say it, Daddy?” she asks, confusion only mounting.

Eric sighs, glancing up at me with a small smile before patiently replying; “Because I’m a grown up, and sometimes grown ups say words that little kids shouldn’t say.”

“Like that word you said when you stubbed your toe on the table this morning?”

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise at that and Eric seeing this is immediately on the defensive. “Daddy said duck,” he insists, quickly covering his ass as he brushes a strand of sandy blonde hair back behind his daughter’s ear. “You know, like the ones we feed at the park every Sunday?”

Looking down at the two of them, it’s difficult not to smile and I can’t help but wonder just how in the hell I managed to get so lucky. What did I do so right in a previous life?

“Oh, can I bring my new Barbie doll to show the ducks the next time we go?”

“Of course you can,” he smiles, ruffling her sandy curls. “Why don’t you go pick one out and meet Mommy and I back here when you’re done, alright?”

“Okay!” she gleefully replies, grinning widely as starts to run across the store towards the doll section.

“Phew, that was a close one,” Eric mutters, rising to his feet. I take two copies of the game from the shelf, tucking them safely under my arm as we watch as our little girl come to a stop in front of a floor to ceiling display of Barbie dolls at the other end of the shop.

“You said duck, huh?” I ask, poorly attempting to fight the smile now threatening to spread across my face.

“I swear to God, Lucy, I didn’t know she was in the room, I-.”

“Uncle Dylan! Aunty Sarah!” Our daughter’s delighted squeals from the other side of the room immediately draws our attention back to her. Dylan is now holding her high in the air, spinning her around in a circle as my sister looks on with a smile.

“It’s about time that motherfucker showed up!” Eric grins, taking my hand in his as we start to walk over towards them. “Him and Sarah were meant to be here a half hour ago!”

“Don’t you mean motherducker?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow at him.

He looks at me for a second before he starts to laugh then stops walking entirely.

“What?”

“You,” he tells me simply, smile beginning to grow as he brings his hands up, cupping my face between them. “I love you so fucking much, do you know that?”

“Don’t you mean you ducking love-.” Eric cuts me off there, closing in the last bit of distance between us as he brings his lips to mine and it’s just as beautiful, just as euphoria inducing as each and every kiss we’ve shared up until now.

I awake with a start to the sound of my alarm clock ringing loudly on the bedside dresser next to me. It’s promptly knocked to the floor with a groan before I toss the covers from my tired body, reluctantly stumbling out of bed.

It was near dawn when I finally left him, climbing back in my bedroom window, exhausted, elated and deliciously sore. He hadn’t left me though, he never truly does, and thoughts of him continued to possess me as I lay in bed; watching through the small gap in the curtains as the sky slowly shifted from black to myriad shades of pink and orange. It finally turned blue and I fell asleep, slipping into a dream where our reality was nothing short of paradise.

As fun as our moonlit tryst in the backseat of his car had been, I soon find myself paying the price for it, but as exhausted as I am from staying up so late the past two nights, it was more than worth it and no price seems too high to pay for the pleasure of his company.

Sat side by side at the kitchen island, I tiredly shovel cereal into my mouth as Mom reads the paper next to me, sipping from a large coffee mug. “You know that thing is going to turn your finger green,” she warns me, glancing down at the plastic ring on my left hand. “I don’t know why you feel the need to wear such a tacky looking thing anyway.”

“I don’t know why you feel the need to add two shots of vodka to your coffee every morning,” I reply with a mouthful of cereal, “but here we are.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the occasional Irish coffee,” Mom sharply informs me, spreading the paper out across the counter in front of her. “And please don’t talk with your mouth full, Lucy, it isn’t dignified.”

Rolling my eyes, I continue to shovel my breakfast into my mouth.

“If you like you and I can go shopping and pick out some nice new rings for you this weekend,” she continues, eyes rapidly scanning the page in front of her as she speaks. “Pretty ones that won’t change the color of your skin.”

Swallowing a mouthful of cereal, I poorly attempt to conceal my annoyance, reminding myself that she’s just trying to be nice. “I like this ring, Mom. Eric gave it to me.”

“Really?” Looking back up at me, she raises an eyebrow, cradling her coffee cup in both hands. “The kid has a job, doesn’t he? Why is he giving my beautiful daughter such cheap jewelry?”

I’m about to argue on his behalf, but she doesn’t allow me the opportunity; “Remember that beautiful tennis bracelet Scott gave you for your birthday? You never even wore it.”

“Oh, fuck Scott and that ugly ass bracelet! Even if it wasn’t the ugliest piece of jewelry I’ve ever seen in my life, I’d rather deep throat a damn cactus than wear anything given to me by that ape!”

“Lucy!” she loudly exclaims, donning a serious scowl of disapproval. “Don’t speak to-.”

“What’s wrong? Not dignified enough for you, Mom?”

Mouth agape, my Mother proceeds to blink slowly a couple of times, as though struggling to process what I’ve just said.

“You can have the damn bracelet if you want,” I tell her, more curtly than I intend to, dropping my spoon down into the bowl as I stand up. “I’m never going to wear it anyway.”

“Really?” Mom calls after me as I walk out of the kitchen. “Only if you’re sure you don’t want it!”

She doesn’t give a shit that I’m annoyed, doesn’t even care enough to ask why. Suddenly Friday night can’t come around fast enough. The sooner Eric and I are as far away from here as possible, the better. Just two more days, I remind myself, two more days and this place is nothing but a bad fucking memory.

“Yep!” I shout, not even bothering to look back at her. “Wear it, burn it, toss in a river! I don’t give a fuck!” I walk straight into Dad in the hall, immediately regretting my colorful use of language and unintentionally continuing to use it. “Shit, Dad, I’m sorry for swearing, I-.”

Much to my surprise, Dad starts to laugh, he hates me swearing but it quickly becomes clear that I’m not about to be chastised for it. “Don’t worry about it, Lucy.”

Holy shit, has hell itself frozen over? That’s when I notice the piece of paper he’s clutching in his hand. “What’s that?”

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” he suggests, grinning broadly as he hands it over to me for inspection. “I’m sorry for opening it, I just got a little excited.”

‘Dear Miss Peters,

We received your application form and portfolio and are delighted to inform you that you have been accepted into the New York School of Art and Design...’

In his excitement, he doesn’t allow me the chance to finish reading. “You got in!” Dad beams, pulling me into a hug. “They loved your portfolio and they offered you a slot there next year!”

“Cool,” I reply, poorly attempting to muster up some fake enthusiasm as I stand there stiffly in his arms. “That’s good.”

“Good? Are you serious? It’s great, Lucy! This is fantastic news! Do you have any idea how proud of you I am of you?” That last comment is a punch to the gut and ironically; the pride in his voice instantly leaves me feeling like the world’s biggest disappointment.

“Just a few more weeks and you and I will be living the big city life, kiddo!” he laughs, ruffling my hair. “I’m going to get us a three bedroom apartment so you can have your own little studio.”

I know I have to feign normalcy but I’m suddenly too guilt ridden to do anything but stare wordlessly at him. Dad frowns at me worriedly, none of this has elicited the response he was expecting, mainly because I have no intention whatsoever of going to New York.

“I know what you’re thinking and don’t worry,” Dad clamps a hand down on my shoulder, smiling again then he verbally delivers the knockout punch; “I’ll happily pay for Eric to fly out and see you just as soon as we get settled in.”

Thankfully, that’s the moment the boy in question arrives to drive me to school, saving me from feeling like the world’s worst daughter any longer.

So,” Eric glances over at me, briefly taking his eyes from the road as he drives. “Have you seen reason since last we spoke or are you still determined to go through with this stupidity?”

“Whatever do you mean,” I ask, playing naïve as I place my first cigarette of the day between my lips.

“You and Larry the thunder-cunt, duh. Are you two still gonna throw hands or what?”  
It’s difficult not to smile when he puts it that way.

“Yes, Eric,” I amusedly respond, pausing momentarily to light the tip of my cigarette. “Rest assured, hands will be thrown.”

“Well, if you insist on going through with this complete and utter buffoonery, at least let me help pump you up a little.”

I take a deep drag then exhale slowly before making my hesitant reply, not sure where he’s going with this. “Alright. Go ahead, pump me up.”

A slow smile spreads across Eric’s face as he turns up the dial on the car radio and the song that begins to blare from the speakers immediately has me both laughing and rolling my eyes in unison.

‘Rising up, back on the streets, took our time, took our chances...’

“You only offered to drive me to school today to mock me, didn’t you?”

“It’s the eye of the tiger! It’s the thrill of the fight!” he sings along to the radio, ignoring my question. “Rising up to the challenge of our rivals!”

“You’re such an idiot,” I tell him, but I’m the person who’s smiling like one, only encouraging him to sing louder and more passionately as he drives us down the street, away from my house.

“And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night!”

“Enough!” I laughingly beg. “Please! I’m sufficiently pumped!”

That gets him to stop. “You were when I dropped you off home last night anyway!”

His comment is met with a halfhearted slap to the arm that only seems to amuse him further.

“You’re unbelievable, do you know that?”

“I was unbelievable last night,” he says innocently, raising an eyebrow as he glances back over at me. “Is that what you meant to say?”

“Shut up,” I sigh, rolling my eyes. “But yes,” I reluctantly concede, “yes you were.”

“I fucking knew it. Eat your damn heart out, Manson. I’m the real God of fuck.”

“You’re a real dumbass, that’s what you are.”

“Watch it, Peters,” he warns me. “Keep it up with the name calling and you’ll be getting no more of that sweet sweet lovin’ from me.”

“Jesus, please don’t call it that,” I laugh, bringing the cigarette back up to my mouth.

“Alright, what about boinking?”he suggests, glancing over again. “Is boinking cool with you?”

“No.”

“How about bumping uglies?”

Another cloud of smoke drifts from my lips up towards the ceiling of the car. “How about no?”

“Getting our freak on?”

“Enough!”

“Okay, okay... doing the horizontal tango?”

“Eric, please shut the fuck up.”

The sweet sound of his laugher fills the car. “Damn, Lucy, that’s no way to speak to your new husband!”

As grim a prospect as today had seemed only this morning, it suddenly becomes a lot more bearable just being here with him on the short journey to school.

“Lucy?”

“Yeah?”

“I know I can’t stop you, seeing as how you’re such a stubborn fuck and all, but-.”

“I’m stubborn?” I scoff, shaking my head in disbelief. “You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met!”

“Touché,” he replies, fighting a smile, “But what I was getting at before you so rudely interrupted me, was that I really don’t want you to fight her.”

“I don’t really want to fight her either,” I admit, offering my half-smoked cigarette over to him before lighting up another. “She kind of backed me into a corner when she started saying all that shit though.”

Holding the cigarette between two long slender fingers, he brings it to his mouth, taking one slow drag then another.

“I need to defend your honor,” I add.

“Well, thank you,” he laughs. “Believe me, I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m more than used to the likes of her and Evans giving me shit and my honor isn’t worth you getting your ass kicked.”

“You don’t think I can take her, is that it?”

Eric exhales a cloud of smoke from the corner of his mouth, taking his eyes from the road just long enough to shoot me a look that very much suggests he doesn’t.

“My Dad’s a cop, Eric. I can throw a punch if I need to,” I insist, having never done so in my life.

“Yeah, well, my Dad was in the air force for twenty years, but you don’t see my trying to fly a damn plane, do you?” Eric takes one final drag before tossing the butt from the car window, another lazy trail of smoke billowing from his lips.

“I wouldn’t put it past you to try,” I joke. “Given the opportunity.”

“Oh, I totally would,” he laughingly agrees. “You don’t have to fight her though, that’s all I’m saying. I wouldn’t think any less of you for backing out.”

“I’m not backing out,” I inform him, starting to think he might be right to a certain extent for calling me stubborn. “I’m not afraid of her, Eric.”

“I know you’re not,” he sighs, right hand leaving the wheel, reaching over to claim my own as he drives. “I just don’t want you to get hurt is all. I do kind of like you, you know.”

“Oh, yeah?” I smile, flicking the ash of my cigarette out the window with my other hand. “I never would have guessed.”

“There’s a lot about me you never would have guessed,” he cryptically replies, eyes now fixed to the road once again.

“Like what?” I scoff. “I know everything about you, retard.”

“You think so, huh?” Eric smirks, pausing to bite down on his lower lip for a moment. “I bet you didn’t think this retard would plant weed in thunder-cunts’ locker or set her car on fire, now did you?”

“That was you!” I gasp, clutching a hand to my chest, feigning shock. “Heavens to Betsy, Eric, I refuse to believe it! Why ever would you commit such heinous crimes?”

“Well, I have to look out for my girl, don’t I? What kind of a shitty boyfriend would I be if I didn’t torment your enemies?”

“The kind that’s going to find his ass in prison if he ever pisses me off,” I jokingly inform him. “Now that I have an actual confession out of you...”

“Hey, I didn’t admit to jack shit,” he protests, gripping the wheel with one hand as he drives. “You know damn well that statement isn’t admissible in court!”

“Yeah, we’ll just fucking see about that, Harris....”

“We will not see about that! How dare you try to blackmail me, you bitch! And besides, you were crazy enough to marry me so you can’t even testify against me in court anyway!”

“Is that why you wanted us to get married? Because you’re utterly unable to behave yourself and don’t want me to be culpable where you and your shenanigans are concerned?”

“Well, duh. Why else did you think I wanted to marry you? Your great personality? Give me a break...” Glancing over at me again, he bites his lower lip, struggling to suppress his laughter.

“You’re a handsome guy, Eric, and you’re a little on the small side. I’m sure they’ll just love you in prison. Have fun becoming some three-hundred pound skinhead’s bitch. I’ll be sure to come visit you on weekends, alright?”

“Oh, that’s cold, Lucy, but I guess the food can’t be any worse than the slop they serve up to us at school. Plus maybe the skinhead has a great personality. Maybe we’ll fall madly in love and I won’t even want you to come visit...”

The laughter comes again as it usually does with him, often and oh so easily; a stark contrast to all the joyless, empty hours I’m forced to endure without him. It’s clear I’ve come to develop an almost unhealthy attachment to him at this point, but most of the time it’s too hard to care, let alone acknowledge it.

“Okay, fine. If that’s the way you want it, go ahead and fall in love with a three-hundred pound white supremacist, Eric. See if I fucking care...”

Eric laughs again and the sound warms my soul a little, just as it always does.

“As much as I hate to admit this; the l only person who’s bitch I’ll ever be is yours. Vodka was right, you’ve somehow managed to render me pussy-whipped to the point of no return.”

I can’t help but grin from ear to ear when he says that, knowing it’s the closest I’m ever going to get to an over-the top, cheesy declaration of love.

“That’s good to know. I like that quality in a man. Let’s just keep it that way, unless you want to spend the rest of your natural life behind bars. I’m not above turning you in if you annoy me...”

“Oh shut up, you can’t say shit in court, Lucy, so quit it with the threats. It’s called marital privilege, I looked it up.”

“Like hell I can’t, Harris. We never signed anything!”

“We don’t need a dumb piece of paper from the government to tell us we love each other. You swore you were mine forever and I swore the same. You’re bound by love to have my back and take my secrets to the grave. There’s no going back now.”

“But I-.”

“But nothing,” he interrupts. “You’re mine forever now. You promised. Might as well get on board with the situation right now. It’ll save us a lot of hardship down the line.”

“Alright, fine,” I relent, sighing as I slump back in my chair, seemingly unable to help myself from grinning like a fool as I stare across the car at him. “I guess I’m yours forever then.”

“Damn straight you are, and you better start going by Mrs. Harris now too, no more of this Lucy Peters crap.”

“What makes you think I don’t want to keep my maiden name?”

“What makes you think you have a choice?” he asks sternly.

“Excuse me, Eric,” I laugh, “but who exactly do you think you’re talking to?”

“My wife, damn it! We’ve only been married for five fucking minutes and you’re already trying to call the shots? Thinking you can think independently and keep your own name... ludicrous behavior!”

“Eric, I-.”

“I’ll have you know that God would not approve, Lucy.”

“Eric!”

“Jesus, woman, I’m your damn husband and you’ll do as I say! Like it or not, you’re Mrs. Harris now. Just deal with it!”

“You’re fucking insane,” I laugh, almost choking on a mouthful of smoke. “Is that really what you think is going to be happening?!”

“Yes, I wear the pants so I make the rules. You’re Mrs. Harris from here on out and if I ever hear you refer to yourself as anything else I won’t hesitate to lay down the law!”

“And just what would that entail exactly?”I ask, growing increasingly entertained by the second.

“Well, a good hard spanking for starters...”

“My name is Lucy Peters!” I loudly declare, struggling now to control my laughter in any capacity.

“Don’t make me pull this car over on the side of the road, woman! I’ll fucking do it! It’s my right and husbandly duty to smack that ass when you get out of line!”

An hour or so later, sat in biology, bored out of my skull, my mind begins to drift back to last night’s dream. Will Eric laugh at me if I tell him about it? Most definitely. Is it a future he would even want? I’m not entirely sure. Outside of joking about the two of us starting up an Emu farm in South America, we never really discussed what we see for our lives long-term. The planning thus far has mainly consisted of just gathering enough money and provisions to get the fuck out dodge in the first place. The future is a blank canvas for us from Friday night onwards and I can’t wait to see the vibrant colors and weird and wonderful designs we paint upon it.

A blurry vision of Eric, a sandy-haired little girl and I still swirling around my head, I begin to doodle in my notebook as the teacher drones on and on and on;“Natural selection is one of the basic mechanisms of evolution-.”

What little attention I was paying is soon reduced to none when I feel something behind me poke me in the back. Turning on my stool, I’m met with Brooks, clutching a pencil, eraser side towards me. “Hey, Lucy,” he whispers. “Can I talk to you about something?”

I’m immediately curious as to what it’s about. Brooks has sat behind me in Bio all year and seems like a nice guy, but we’ve barely said two words to each other in all that time. I know very little about him outside of Eric’s colorful opinion, but in a weird way I actually have Brooks to thank for Eric and I getting together. He only left Dylan’s side and ventured out into the garden that night at the party because Brooks had come over to talk to him.

“Sure, what’s it about?” I whisper back, propping an elbow on his desk as I lean forward on my stool.

“Eric,” he replies simply.

Oh God, what has he done now? Dylan had been the one to initially fill me in on the details of the ongoing feud between the two but never one to forget a slight, perceived or otherwise, Eric has also regaled me with the tale of their falling out, far more times than I care to remember.

“What about him?” I ask, somewhat reluctantly, already sure I’m not going to like his response.

“Do you know about his website?”

Eric spends far more time on his computer than he probably should, but this is the first I’m hearing of him having any website of his own. “What website?”

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” Brooks shoves a hand down into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper, sliding it across the desk towards me. “I’m not trying to cause any problems, but you should probably check it out. Eric is good at pulling the wool over people’s eyes, but I think you have a right to know who you’re actually dating.”

“Okay,” I reply, unable to help from frowning slightly as I pick up the small piece of notebook paper. “Thanks, I guess, I’ll check it out later.”

Lunchtime rolls around faster than I could have thought possible and my stomach is in knots as I make my way down the hall in search of Eric. He made me promise to come get him before I left for the smoker’s pit and honestly I could use the emotional support.

I soon find him and Dylan by the wall of lockers opposite the library, arguing in hushed tones.

“That’s not what I’m saying, man,” Eric insists. “I just think that-.”

Dylan sees me first and interrupts him, loudly clearing his throat as his eyes dart back and fourth between mine and his friends. Eric quickly turns around to face me, eyes a little wider than usual. “Oh, hey. How was bio?”

“Absolutely riveting, I enjoyed every second,” I sarcastically reply. “What are you two talking about?”

“Nothing,” he insists. “Just guy stuff.”

“Guy stuff? Like what?”

“Tits, guns, action movies, that kinda thing,” Eric tells me. “Nothing you’d really be interested in.”

“I’m interested in at least one of those things.”

“Tits?” Dylan smirks, leaning up against his locker. “I fucking knew it.”

“Oh God, yeah, you were right on the money, Dylan. Nothing I love more than a nice set of tits.”

“You and me both, Lucy goosey,” Eric chuckles, wrapping an arm around my waist.

“Are you guys busy or can you come with me to the smoker’s pit now?”

“Oh, that’s right,” Dylan says with a snap of his fingers. “You and Laura are having your little showdown today, aren’t you?”

“She prefers to go by Larry these days,” Eric informs him.

“Larry?” Dylan smiles, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, Larry the thunder-cunt to use her full title. My girl here is gonna rearrange her damn face.”

“Well, good for you, Lucy,” Dylan tells me.“I wouldn’t have thought you had it in in you. And don’t worry your pretty little head about us not coming with you, we wouldn’t miss that shit for all the tea in China.”

My anxiousness only continues to grow as the three of us make our way across the parking lot.

“You’ve got this, Lucy,” Eric assures me. “You just need to channel all the rage you have inside you, all that pent up frustration and aggression, just let it out, use it to give you the upper-hand.”

“I don’t think I have any rage inside me though.”

“Yeah, you do,” Eric insists, now rubbing my shoulders as we walk. “You just suppress it. Girls are told they always have to be all nice and sweet by society, but I know you’ve got some anger in you. It might be buried, but it’s there. Think about your parents divorce, think about how that bitch has treated you the past few weeks, think about that asshole Scott who-.”

Dylan winces a little at that and Eric stops speaking, seeming to instantly regret bringing up that unfortunate situation as soon as the words leave his mouth. “Shit, I’m sorry, Lucy, I didn’t mean to-.”

”No, it’s fine, Eric, really. Actually, if anything might help get me pissed, it’s thinking about that asshole.”

I do as he says as we approach the smoker’s pit, trying my best to tap into whatever anger I may have buried within me in an attempt to use it to my benefit and it doesn’t take long for me to come up with several reasons to be angry. My family is going to be torn apart by divorce and with or without me, Dad is going to be moving to the other side of the country. That horrible business with Scott. The fact that practically all my friends have turned against me for the most frivolous and superficial of reasons...

When you’re in at Columbine, you’re in, and when you’re out, well, you might as well not exist at all, or you’re probably just going to wish you didn’t... It’s not a place for independent thinkers, for kids who are “different” or like to dress, act or behave in anyway that could even slightly be perceived as going against the norm. I used to be a part of the “social elite” here at Columbine and the price for being true to myself had been my slow decline from popularity to near total obscurity.

Maybe Eric is right, maybe I do have more anger in me than I thought, maybe it’s just been laying dormant, just waiting to be tapped into.

Word of our fight unsurprisingly seems to have spread and there’s at least two dozen people gathered there to take in this idiocy when we arrive. None of them give a fuck who wins or loses, that much I’m sure of, they’re just here to see the show, to be able to say they were there and to have something to gossip about in the commons. Unfortunately, Scott and some of his friends are among the small crowd. As soon as he sees us, he foolishly decides to make his unwanted approach.

Eric’s throws a protective arm over my shoulder and his frown is immediate as he stares daggers at my pervert of an ex-boyfriend, silently telling him to fuck off before he even has the chance to come over and open his mouth.

Sadly for us, Scott struggles to read body language cues almost as much as he struggles to read the English language. “Hey Lucy, hey Harris, how are you guys doing?”

Eric’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, he slowly starts to shake his head as a small laugh of disbelief escapes him. “We’re great, Scott. Thanks for asking, buddy. Now tell me, how the hell are you doing, you gigantic piece of shit, you? I hope the family is well.”

Scott’s jaw just about hits the ground when he says that. Eric’s been silently (for the most part) taking shit from him and his friends for years, the idea of him actually standing up for himself still does not compute for Evans’ tiny brain.

“Lucy, what the hell, are you really going to let him talk to me like that?! I was trying to be nice!”

I really don’t need the added drama of a pissing contest between the two, especially when I have my own I need to participate in first, but the idea of warming up for the fight ahead with a good hard smack to Scott’s face does cross my mind. Maybe a nice swift kick to the balls for good measure...

“Eric can speak to you anyway he likes and I can’t honestly say our opinions are any different where the matter of you being a giant shit is concerned.”

Scott’s apparent nice act then starts to wear thin again and I can visibly see him struggle to contain his annoyance.

“Lucy, I don’t know why you’re so pissed at me. I thought we mended fences. I thought you said we could be friends again.”

“Not on your fucking life, man,” Eric tells him sharply. “You need to stay the hell away from her, Evans, for good. I mean it. No more tutoring, no more trying to strike up conversations with her in the hall. You and her are done. Don’t make me have to tell you again or you’re not going to like what happens.”

“If you think you can threaten me, Harris, I-.”

“It’s not a threat,” Eric assures him. “It’s a fucking promise. You might pretend you don’t remember what you tried to do that night at Lucy’s house but I know you do.”

Scott’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, immediately making me suspect Eric might be right about him remembering the unfortunate incident all too well.

“Eric, please don’t...” I beg, resting a hand on his chest.

“No, Lucy! This fucker knows damn well why I don’t want him near you! He’s a fucking dog, less than a dog and if he ever tries to talk to you again I’m telling your Dad exactly what happened that night!”

“Hey, man,” Scott raises his hands up defensively. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, alright? I fainted, remember? You were there!”

“What about before you fainted, Scotty boy?” Eric asks sarcastically, voice dripping with disdain. “What were you up to right before you passed out like a little bitch? I’ll give you a hint, it involved my girlfriend and your creepy ass...”

“I don’t remember that, alright?!” Scott insists, lying through his perfect teeth. “Just... just please don’t tell Mr. Peters about any of this, okay? Please.”

“You’re fucking pathetic,” Eric sneers, shaking his back and fourth. “Come on, Lucy. Let’s go get this tomfuckery over with.” He takes my hand in his and starts to lead me away from my still stunned ex-boyfriend, Dylan trailing along behind us.

“Isn’t it tomfoolery?”

Eric is about to reply when Dylan clamps a large hand down on either of his shoulders. “Holy shit, that was awesome, Reb!” he laughs. “Evans looked like he was about to stroke the fuck out! Good job, my man!”

Eric looks at me then, grinning smugly, having just received one hell of an ego boost if I ever saw one. He looks way too adorable in all his cockiness and pride not to kiss him and so I do, grabbing a handful of his t-shirt and yanking him forward.

“My man,” I tell him, practically growling the words against his lips.

“Oh look,” Dylan gestures with a nod of his head. “It’s the bitches of Eastwick.”

With Eric’s hands now resting on my jeans clad hips, I look back over my shoulder to where Katie, Laura and Anna are stood around laughing and smoking.

“Thunder-cunt and the crew have arrived,” Eric sighs, bringing a hand up to my face. He gently pushes a strand of hair back behind my ear, instantly reminding me of that beautiful dream once again.

“You sure you’re still up for this, Lucy goosey?”

I’m not sure and if truth be told, I’m seriously starting to doubt myself here. I’ve never been in a fight in my life and the idea of being both beaten and humiliated so publicly, especially by her of all people, is a lot more than I can bare. I’d been too blinded by my anger and wounded pride to really think things through before agreeing to this.

Eric is staring at me now, growing increasingly concerned as he awaits a response. Words fail me, but I manage a small nod.

“Just say the word and I’ll cause such a fucking scene nobody will even remember there was gonna be a fight...”

That makes me laugh, helping slightly to alleviate the sudden panic and uncertainty.

Then Katie looks over and sees us, gesturing for Laura to turn around. As soon as she spots us, she starts walking over.

“Well, well, well,” my former friend says, reminding me slightly of a cartoon villain as she does. “Look who decided to show her face!”

“Look who’s cock outline is showing through their skirt,” Eric mutters, earning a low chuckle from Dylan.

“You’re just jealous it’s bigger than yours, dude,” he tells him. “That’s the only reason you’re talking shit.”

“Pffft, not even close, man,” Eric scoffs. “I’m packing a damn firehose down there, aren’t I, Lucy?”

I’m barely listening to them now, too riddled with anxiety and fear to do much more than stand there frozen, gaping at the sight of my old best friend walking towards me.

“Are you ready to do this, or what?”

No, I’m not. I’d thought I wanted a chance to finally put this bitch in her place but now I find myself completely and utterly lacking the courage of my conviction. Eric is right, I’m about to have my ass handed to me if I go through with this. I hate myself immediately for chickening out but in the moment it seems a better alternative than having the everliving shit kicked out of me.

“Look, Laura, I’ve been thinking about it and I’m not sure we should go through with this. I-.”

“Oh how fucking typical. Of course you don’t want to fight me, you total fucking coward, you,” Laura berates me, donning an extremely obnoxious, shit-eating grin as she does. “You’re so afraid of me you couldn’t even come here on your own, you had to bring along your merry little band of fags with you for protection!”

I hear a sharp intake of breath from behind me, unsure if it came from Eric or Dylan then the laughter starts. Scott and his friends are especially amused by the comment, going so far as to slap their hands up and down on their knees as they loudly guffaw.

Suddenly, it’s all too much. Laura’s shit-eating smile, Scott and his brain-dead cronies laughing like hyenas, the look of pure embarrassment and anger that I know is now on Eric’s face, without even having to turn around to look at him.

“You shut your fucking mouth, Laura!”

“Or what?” she laughs, cocking a perfectly plucked eyebrow at me. “What are you going to do? What’s the little fag-hag going to-.”

A wave of immediate anger washes over me, taking me slightly aback in both its immediacy and intensity, then everything goes red. Before I can truly even register what’s happening, the fingers of my right hand are curled up into a fist, flying towards her face. I’m almost as stunned as she is when I land the first punch but I’m far more up to speed with the situation than she is by the time I land the second.

Then we’re on the ground and I’m on top of her, right arm rising and falling in rapid succession, almost mechanically. I’m vaguely aware of a circle of people surrounding us now, shouting cheers of encouragement, chanting; “Fight! Fight! Fight!” Somehow, through the chaos and screaming, I manage to make out Eric’s loud and irritated voice; “Out of my way, dickhead!”

At the sound of his voice, I make the foolish mistake of glancing up from where Laura is pinned beneath me, quickly scanning the sea of excited faces for his. That’s when she frees one of her arms and manages to take a good hard swing upward, punching me in the face and sending me flying off of her.

I’m too stunned to do anything but lay there as she clambers on top of me, grabbing a handful of my hair, pulling my head up from the ground. She quickly slams my head down against the ground and the pain that hits me is intense and overwhelming. She lifts me up by the hair again and I’m so dazed and out of it already I don’t think I can take another head-butt with the Earth.

That’s when I see something red and metallic flying through the air, bouncing off the top of Laura’s bottle-blonde head. She screams out in pain, releasing her grip on my hair.

Then I’m clambering on top of her again, hitting her over and over and over again, screaming at the top of my lungs;

“Don’t you ever fucking talk about us like that again, you stupid fucking cunt! Or I swear to God, I’ll kill you!”

The cheers of “Fight! Fight! Fight!” give way to a dozen or more groans and grumbles of complaint as I’m finally pulled away from her, effectively ending the fight. I’m incapacitated by a pair of arms pinning my own behind my back and she seems in no condition to stand up, let alone continue fighting.

“Let go of me, you dickhead! I’m not finished!” I protest, struggling against my captor’s grip. It’s only when I hear him yelling; “Dylan! A little fucking help would be nice, dude!” that I even realize Eric is the one restraining me.

The three of us are silent as we walk back up the steps at the west entrance. My face hasn’t started to ache yet, the last of my sudden burst of adrenaline having yet to wear off. I’m sure the pain will come later though and frankly, I probably deserve it for lowering myself to that level.

“That was me who chucked that can of Dr. Pepper at her head, you know,” Dylan laughingly informs me, looking like he hasn’t slept in about a month. “I wasn’t aiming for her head necessarily but sometimes the stars align just right!”

The bell rings, signaling that lunch is over and our next class is about to begin. Neither Eric or Dylan seem overly concerned.

“I’m fine, guys, seriously. You two go to class. Eric, I’ll find some bullshit excuse to tell the folks so I can come see you after school.”

“You’re not fine,” Eric stubbornly insists. “And don’t argue with me. You’ve got a busted up lip and that eye is already starting to swell. We’ve got to go clean that shit up so it doesn’t get infected.”

He’s clearly not going to take no for answer, so I don’t bother to protest any further. “Whatever you say, Doctor Harris.”

“Damn, that has a nice ring to it. My parents would be as happy as two pigs in shit if I became a doctor. Just imagine...”

An image of Eric in a Doctor’s gown with a stethoscope around his neck immediately comes to mind, making me smile.

“.... I could be the next Josef Mengele.”

“Or a Harold Shipman, angel of death type,” Dylan jokes.

“Or maybe just a nice, hardworking doctor who’s good at his job and cares about his patients?” I suggest.

“Now you’re just being unrealistic, Lucy.”

We need supplies from the nurse’s office but don’t want to have to explain the situation and risk her going to the principal or one of our teachers.

“You fucking owe me for this, Reb,” Dylan tells Eric, after it’s been decided upon that he will be the distraction. “Big time. That woman would talk to a damn mailbox all day if it would pretend to listen to her!”

Dylan successfully manages to lure the nurse into the hall with vague complaints of back pain while Eric sneaks into the room behind her.

Dylan is still stood there, nodding his head politely, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else on Earth, as Eric and I walk back up the hall.

The supply closet is small and it’s a struggle to maneuver around too much in such confined quarters; still, the two of us go inside and close the door behind us as soon as we find it unlocked. Eric pulls the white chain dangling from the ceiling and a lightbulb flickers on, barley illuminating the closet at all.

A wince of pain escapes me as he dabs at my face with an alcohol soaked cloth. “Jesus, that fucking stings!”

“It’ll sting a hell of a lot more if it gets infected,” he warns me. “Now shut up and let Doctor Harris do his thing.”

I roll my eyes at that, resting my back against the row of shelves behind me as Eric continues to clean my cuts and bruises.

“I always wanted two girls fighting over me, you know,” Eric smirks, as we stand there in the privacy of a dimly lit supply closet. “Just not like this. I would have thought a good cat-fight would get my motor running but I guess it just isn’t the same when you love one of the cats...”

“We weren’t fighting over you, numb-nuts. That little incident was... a culmination of a lot of things.”

“I thought you were defending my honor. Isn’t that what you said?”

“Well, yeah, but...”

“But, but, but....” he interjects. “You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

I wasn’t expecting him to ask me that.

“It wasn’t as bad as I expected it to be.”

“Yeah, because you kicked her fucking ass,” Eric laughs. “You made her your prison bitch and I couldn’t be prouder.”

That’s two people today that have told me they were proud of me; so why do I feel like shit? Besides the fact that I just got slapped around by Laura...

“Look at you, Lucy. Kicking ass left and right then dragging me in here for some sweet sweet lovin’. I don’t know what’s come over you but I like it.”

“Eric, you’re the one who dragged me in here and will you please stop calling it-.” He cuts me off there, kissing me again.

My Home-Ec. teacher calls me out into the hall to ask me if everything is alright at home as soon as she sees the state of my face. I successfully manage to sell her a bullshit story about falling down the steps outside, either that or she just doesn’t care to probe any further.

Eric drives me home as promised and insists on examining my face once more before I get out of the car. “That’s gonna hurt like a son of a bitch tomorrow,” he says sympathetically, running two fingers down the length of my bruised cheek. “Larry looks a hell of a lot worse than you do right now though, so that’s something.”

Eric and I nearly jump out of our skin in shock at a sudden persistent knocking on the driver’s side window. Mom is stood there, gesturing for Eric to roll the window down. Omitting a heavy sigh, he begins to wind the handle, lowering the glass. 

“Hello, Mrs. Peters, it’s nice to see you,” he lies politely. “How are you?”

“Eric! Lucy! You’re here! I was just in the backyard having a glass of sangria when I heard a car pull up! Why don’t you kids come in and join me?”

She too is quick to believe the bullshit “I fell down the stairs” line. Dad however, will be much harder to convince. He isn’t stupid and he actually cares. 

One of Dad’s Bob Dylan records plays in the corner of the kitchen while I down my fourth glass of sangria. Leaning up against one of the counters, I watch Eric walk over to the fridge where he grabs a soda, opening it up as he walks back over then leans up against the counter next to me.

“So,” he says before taking a small sip of his drink. “Your Mom disappeared a good forty-five minutes ago. I don’t think she’s coming back downstairs, do you?”

“No,” I shake my head, bringing my glass up to my lips, taking a significantly larger drink before I continue. “I doubt it. She’s more than likely passed out in bed by now.”

“What time will your Dad be home?” he asks between gulps of soda.

“I’m not sure, probably not for another few hours at least. He’s been doing a lot of overtime lately,” I can’t help but smile while I tell him Dad’s excuse. “He reckons they want to make the most of the best cop down at the station before he sets off for greener pastures.”

“Well, that’s good news for us, isn’t it?” Eric smiles, snaking a hand around my waist. “I wouldn’t be here right now if he was.”

“I’m glad you are though,” I tell him, throwing my arms around his shoulders. “Here I mean. I’m so, so, so glad.”

“You’re so, so, so drunk, is what you are,” he laughs, running a hand up and down the length of my back.

“Eric,” I mumble his name into the material of his shirt.

“Yes, Lucy the lush,” he chuckles. “What is it?”

“Will you dance with me?”

That makes him laugh. “Oh, hell no. Sorry but I don’t dance, Lucy. You already know this about me.”

“Come on, Eric,” I drunkenly plead. “Please dance with me. It’s just you and I here, nobody is going to judge you or laugh at you. Please, please, please, please, ple-.”

“Fuck it! Alright! Fine!” he relents, rolling his eyes before he turns to walk over toward the record player.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m turning that shit up a little. If we’re gonna dance we might as well be able to hear the damn music.”

‘I love you more than ever, more than time and more than love. I love you more than money and more than the stars above...’

“This is so lame, Lucy,” he sighs. “Why are you making me do this?”

“Shut up,” I demand. “I like this song.”

‘I love you more than madness, more than dreams upon the sea. I love you more than life itself, you mean that much to me...’

We don’t really dance, more just holding one other, slowly swaying back and fourth to the music. Burying my face in his chest, I listen to the steady beating of heart.

‘Cause I love you more than all of that with a love that doesn’t bend and if there is eternity; I’d love you there again...’

In my drunken stupor, Eric is forced to help carry me upstairs to bed, alternating between laughing at me one second for drinking too much and lecturing me about it the next.

I fall down onto the bed with a groan then I’m vaguely aware of Eric pulling my boots off before he turns out the light and falls down onto the bed next to me, throwing an arm over my body as he settles in. I’m thankful it’s dark now, the room doesn’t seem to be spinning quite as much.

“Are you spending the night?” I ask him tiredly, already feeling like I could drift off to sleep at a moment’s notice.

“I wish I could but if your Dad finds out-.”

“Yeah, yeah, he’ll castrate you, I know.”

“All threats aside, I really don’t think he’d go that far,” Eric chuckles. “I mean, maybe a ball or two, that much I could almost understand but a total castration? The meat and two veg? Damn, that seems a little harsh...”

On the brink of falling asleep now, I don’t respond.

“Lucy, are you even listening to me?”

For some reason, that’s the moment I remember that webpage Brooks told me to check out. I forgot to ask Eric about that or look it up. I make a mental reminder to do so first thing in the morning, when I’m not wasted and can type and form sentences coherently.

“Uh-huh,” I murmur into the pillow. “Meat and two veg. You keep talking, I’m listening.”

He wraps his arms around me a little tighter then and the sound of his low, soft laughter is the last thing I hear before I drift off to sleep. When I wake up, it’s still dark out and Eric is gone. I turn on the light that rests atop my bedside table to take a look at the time on my alarm clock. As soon as the light hits the glimmering silver on the nightstand, I find myself gasping loudly at what I find.

My head is thumping a little now, a nasty byproduct of my earlier overindulgence, but I’m smiling widely as I pick the necklace up, staring at it, almost in awe as it dangles from my fingers. My necklace. The one I pawned last night. The one I never thought I’d see again. That’s when I finally think to examine the small piece of paper that was underneath it.

‘I had to go back and get this last night after I dropped you off, before you snuck out of the house and we... well, you know. It cost me a fucking arm and a leg but you cost me my damn heart. See your hungover ass in English tomorrow. Love, your happily and eternally pussy-whipped husband.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for any typos and/ or grammatical errors that I missed. I’m too tired and stoned to read this entire thing properly right now, let alone edit it but I really wanted to get the next chapter up tonight. Regardless of how sloppy and all over the place it is, lol.


	17. Blow Up The Outside World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know I haven’t updated in a while, but I have a good excuse. I had a flat tire, my dog ate my homework and I’ve been busy off fighting crime in Gotham City.

I wake with a nasty headache, an unpleasant side effect of drinking like a fish the night before with a tolerance for alcohol that is virtually nonexistent. Sitting up in bed, I glance over at my bedside locker, wondering what time it is. That’s when I see the necklace; a long, delicate chain with a small, silver, heart-shaped locket dangling from it. I was sure I had only dreamed that I’d gotten it back, but there it is, carefully laid out atop my bedside locker, just as I’d found it the night before. 

Lips turning up into a smile, I reach over and pick it up, almost off though I have to physically touch it to be sure that it’s real. 

A happy sigh escapes me as I glance over at the raggedy looking stuffed animal I’ve had since I was a kid. “He really is something, isn’t he, Mr. Bigglesworth?” 

“God, are we really related?” Cringing with embarrassment, I look over to see my smirking sister standing in the doorway to my room. “You are such a fucking weirdo sometimes...” 

“Jesus, Sarah, I didn’t know you were there!” 

“Well, clearly,” she laughs, leaning up against the frame of the door. “I just swung by to pick up a few things and... Oh My God, what happened to your face?!” 

Sarah quickly strides across the room, face a mask of concern as she takes a seat next to me on the bed. Holding my chin in her hand, she starts to frown, tilting my face to the left then the right for inspection. 

“I was screwing around on a skateboard at the top of the steps at school and yeah, this fiasco happened,” I explain, gesturing towards my face with a wave of my hand. “It was my own fault.” 

“Ouch. Sounds like it. You need to be more careful, Lucy.”

“You don’t say? Gee, thanks for the sympathy!” 

“Drop the sarcasm or I’ll put crazy glue in your hair again just like when we were kids,” she warns me, instantly reminding me of that awful bowl haircut our Mom had felt the need to give me afterwards. 

“Alright, you win. I’d rather not look like the guy from Dumb and Dumber in my senior photos, thanks.”

“Dad just sent me up here to make sure your lazy, Jim Carrey looking ass was out of bed, he’s driving you to school today, apparently.”

I could have gotten a ride with Eric, but he has bowling today and I’d rather die than have to get up that early again. 

“Hey, will you do me a favor?” Sarah rises from the bed, smoothing down the front of her shirt. 

“Depends what it is.” 

“I just want you to promise me you won’t get on any more skateboards today, alright?” 

“I won’t.” I smile, rolling my eyes at her. 

“He’s leaving soon, so get ready to say your goodbyes to dear Mr. Bigglesworth there.” 

“Yeah, yeah, piss off and let me get dressed then.” I grab a pillow from the top of the bed, firing it the direction of the door. 

Sarah catches it easily and tosses it back at me, hitting me in the chest. “Fine! Have fun at school, dipshit!” 

“Wait, Sarah!” 

“What now?” she wearily replies, turning back around to face me. 

“Can I still tell Mom and Dad that I’m staying at your place tomorrow night?” 

Sarah places her hands on her hips and sighs heavily as if the simple request is a huge imposition on her part. “I’m good for an alibi this time, but you owe me one.” 

“Thanks, Sarah, I mean it.” 

“You should thank me. You know how much it pains me to have to lie to Mom and Dad...” 

“Oh yeah, I’m sure it just eats you up inside,” I reply, voice thick with sarcasm. 

“It totally does. It’d break their heart if they knew that their favorite child was lying to them, you know... Hey... um... how’s Dylan doing by the way?” 

That takes me by surprise, probably more than it should seeing as how I’ve caught her and Dylan making out twice now. “He’s good. I mean, he seems good at least. He does look pretty tired a lot of the time, but other than that he seems okay. Should you really be-.” 

“No, you’re right.” Sarah forces a laugh, shaking her head dismissively. “I shouldn’t have even asked. I’m being dumb. I am back with Jason after all and I... Can you... can you just tell him I said hi?” 

“Yeah, of course I will.”

“Thanks, Lucy. I might give you a lot of shit sometimes but you’re actually alright, you know.” 

Sat cross-legged on my bed, I feel myself start to smile again. “That’s high praise coming from you, Sarah, thank you.” 

She starts to laugh and looking at her, I’m suddenly seven years old again; back when my older sister was my best friend, my hero, the one who would hold my hand and tell me everything was alright when we regularly woke to the sound of our parents verbally ripping each other to shreds downstairs. 

Before I’m even conscious of making the decision to do so, I’ve already risen from the bed. I cross the room and pull her into my arms, hugging her fiercely. “I love you, you know, even if you are a total bitch sometimes.” 

My sister stiffens in my arms, awkwardly patting a hand up and down on my back a few times. When she realizes I’m not letting go, she finally relaxes into it and hugs me back. “I love you too.” Sarah rests a hand on each of my shoulders then, holding me at arms length, staring at me seriously. “Is everything alright?” 

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I just wanted to say that. I know we might not always get along and we don’t see each other as much since you moved out, but I do love you, a lot, and I just wanted to remind you.” 

Sarah cocks an eyebrow, instantly suspicious. “What are you up to?

“I’m not up to anything!” I insist, immediately wishing I hadn’t said anything. “I just love you is all!” 

“Yeah, right. You’re such an awful liar, do you know that? Relax, Lucy. I don’t give a shit. Whatever it is, I’m sure that little boyfriend of yours will be tagging along and I can’t imagine you two goodie two-shoes getting up to much trouble.” 

Sarah smiles at me, ruffling my hair as though I’m five years old. “Just don’t do anything I would do, alright?” 

Even though I know I won’t be around to repay the favor, I’m grateful for her willingness to cover for me. As soon as Dad realizes I’m gone, he’s going to have half the cops in Colorado out looking for me. When he hears Eric has also disappeared, that’s when the other half will probably join him.

Memories of last night come back to me in pieces as I get dressed for the day, hazy, half-remembered flashes of Eric and I dancing in the kitchen, of him helping me up the stairs and into bed. In the bathroom, I cake on a couple of layers of foundation in a fruitless attempt to hide my blackened eye, consoling myself with the knowledge that Laura looked worse than I did in the end. 

Staring at myself in the mirror as I brush my teeth, I feel a small tinge of embarrassment, remembering the way I babbled incoherently and stumbled all over the kitchen in front of Eric last night. He’d just laughed, of course, steadied my swaying form in his arms, reassured me that I was “cute” when I was wasted, but still, I acted like a fool, worse even, I acted like Mom. That’s when Brooks’ words of warning come back to me, beginning to gnaw at me all over again; “Eric is good at pulling the wool over people’s eyes, but I thought you should know...” 

I grab a glass of OJ from the kitchen, sipping from it as I head back up the stairs, hoping the boost of vitamin C might prove a miracle cure for my still lingering headache. The jeans I was wearing yesterday are still laying on the floor by my bed. I pick the crumpled pile of denim up from the floor, noticing a few small splotches of dried blood just above one of the knees. Is that Laura’s blood or mine? The thought is quickly forgotten as I shove my hand into one of the pockets, feeling around for the small slip of paper Brooks handed me yesterday. 

As soon as I find it, I head over to my desk and sit down in front of my computer. I type the letters out slowly, mentally preparing myself for the possibility that I’m about to see something I won’t like. I take another drink of OJ, swirling it around in my mouth like I’m at a wine tasting as I stare at the computer screen.

Perusing the contents of Eric’s secret website; I find myself experiencing a strange mixture of amusement and concern. It’s definitely his site, that much in certain of, the dark humor and writing style are unmistakably Eric’s. It ranges from an innocuous series of ridiculously bad ‘Yo Momma’ jokes to a collection of long, angry, hate-filled rants and it’s difficult to know how much of it I should take seriously. 

Scrolling down, I find myself taken aback at one particular passage that mentions wanting to “kill all the residents of Denver,” but then there’s other parts, like him complaining at length about people walking too slowly in front of him and mentions of his and Dylan’s “rebel missions” that leave me smiling at my computer monitor. This is just his way of channeling his frustration, I assure myself. He couldn’t possibly mean half the things he’s saying. If that’s the case though, why has he never mentioned having a website before? Why didn’t he want me to know it existed? That’s when Dad decides to barge into my room unannounced, causing me to jump up slightly in my chair. “Morning kiddo, ready to go?” 

Shit. Shit. Shit. “Hey Dad, yeah, just a second.” I quickly turn off the screen before he gets a good chance to look at it. 

“What are you doing on the computer?” Dad frowns, staring to walk over towards my desk. 

“Nothing.” 

“Nothing, huh, then why did you...” My Father’s voice trails off as he gets closer, taking in the split lip and black eye I’ve unsuccessfully attempted to conceal with makeup. “Jesus H. Christ, what in the hell happened?!” 

“Didn’t Mom tell you?” I ask, trying extremely hard not to show any visible signs of guilt. The man is like a human lie detector sometimes. 

“Your Mother doesn’t tell me anything other than how useless I am,” he sighs. “Now tell me what happened to your face.” 

“I was messing around on a skateboard at school and fell down some steps. I’m fine, Dad, really. It looks worse than it is.” 

“You know, I may not be the sharpest man on the planet, but if there’s one thing people say about your old man, it’s that I have a gift for sniffing out bullshit...”

It’s a genuine struggle not to roll my eyes at that. “I’m not bullshitting you!”

“That busted up lip of yours, I might be able to buy happening if you fell down some steps, but that eye? No way in hell. You only get a shiner like that if some asshole’s clocked you.”

I knew he wouldn’t buy it and I was a fool for trying to sell it to him in the first place. 

“Lucy,” Dad says my name somewhat hesitantly. “Did... did Eric do this to you?”

“Oh God, Dad! Don’t be ridiculous, of course he didn’t!” 

“Alright! Alright!” He says, throwing his hands up defensively. “Don’t bite my head off, I had to ask!” 

“No, you didn’t! You’ve just been looking for any excuse you can find to try and keep us apart!” I tell him, feeling the world’s biggest cliche as I do. 

“Hey, now that’s not true! I just think the two of you are a bit young to be spending so much time together, that’s all. You should be focusing on school and-.” 

“Dad, I love you, but please, just this once, spare me the fucking lecture.” 

“Lucy, I-.”

“Please Dad! Fuck!” 

“Alright! Fine! If you don’t want to talk to me, that’s just fine, don’t fucking talk to me! Go grab your shit and let’s go, it’s time for school!” 

Startled by his sudden and probably well deserved irritation, I head to the bathroom, quickly applying some more make up before silently grabbing my bag and coat and heading out to the car. 

Neither one of us says a word on the unusually long, painfully quiet car ride to school and I feel almost invisible sat next to him in the passenger seat. Stepping out onto the pavement, hearing the car door shut behind me, I feel a considerable wave of sadness wash over me at the fact that this will probably be the last time Dad ever drives me to school. 

Eric’s website still simmering away on the back-burner of my mind, I climb the steps at the west entrance, almost in a daze. Dad probably hates me now, the way I’ve been acting lately, the way I keep pushing him away. Maybe it’s for the best if he does, maybe it’ll hurt less when I pull my little Houdini routine. 

We used to be so close and now it feels as though we barely know each other anymore. That’s when the daunting realization hits me; I’m leaving behind one man I love to run away with another and after this morning, after some of the things I read, I’m not entirely sure I know him either, at least not as well as I thought I did. 

I walk into Algebra a few minutes early, still playing with the silver chain dangling from my neck and take my usual seat in the back. The entire class and the one that follows are spent thinking obsessively about that website, silently begrudging any higher power that might exist for only putting Eric and I in one class together. 

More than once I consider skipping next period to go to the library, just to have one more look at the site before making up my mind. Maybe I missed a small-print disclaimer somewhere that said the entire thing was satire, just some kind of edgy joke or weird creative writing exercise. 

Art, the only class besides English that I actually enjoy, comes as a welcome distraction, helping to tear me away from several unhappy trains of thought. 

“Have you thought about becoming an artist after you graduate?” Becky, a short, bespectacled girl with bright red hair, who has sat across from me all year in art, asks as we file out into the hall among a steady stream of students. 

“Once or twice,” I admit, massively downplaying the fact that I’ve dreamed about that very thing ever since I can remember. “But I’m nowhere near talented enough to do it professionally.” 

“That’s why people go to art school, you dummy! To hone their craft!” 

I have to admit, I’m glad that I’ve finally managed to branch out a little and make a new friend. It saddens me to think that this new blossoming friendship can’t last, I won’t be here for it to. 

“You’d be such a moron to turn that school down! Do you have any idea how many people would kill to go to art school in New York? Every day would be just like living in an episode of Sex and the City,” Becky sighs dreamily. 

“I don’t know what you think I’d be getting up to in New York,” I tell her, laughing as we continue down the hall. “But I sincerely doubt I’d turn into Carrie Bradshaw with a paintbrush all of a sudden...” 

“Whatever, you know what I mean,” Becky laughs, rolling her eyes. “It’s just such a cool, glamorous place compared to a pit like Littleton! Not to mention the fact that it’s such an amazing opportunity for you!” 

“Yeah, I know, it’s a great opportunity and all but...”

“But what?” She cuts me off. “What but could there possibly be for you to piss away your chance at an awesome opportunity like that?”

“I don’t know,” I shrug, unable to help from smiling a little. “Maybe there’s something a little more important to me right here in Colorado.”

“You’re insane. If I was you-.” 

“You got into art school?” Eric’s voice from behind us brings an immediate halt to the conversation. 

“Yeah,” I turn around to face him, inexplicably feeling like the kid who just got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “Yeah, I did.”

“And when were you gonna tell me, huh?” he demands, scowling slightly as we stand there in the hall. Immediately I can tell he’s more hurt than he is annoyed, but his curt tone and rather severe facial expression might suggest otherwise. 

Becky looks back and fourth between the two of us, suddenly uncomfortable. “Should I... should I go?”

“No, you stay where you are, Gretchen,” Eric tells her, still staring me dead in the eye. 

“It’s Becky,” she corrects him,” a clear tinge of annoyance in her voice. 

“Sure, Becky, my bad,” he mutters, still not truly acknowledging her as he takes a step towards me. “Lucy, why didn’t you say anything?”

I’m stunned for a second, wondering how in the hell he managed to turn the tables like this. I’m the one who’s supposed to be asking why he kept things from me. “I was going to tell you,” I assure him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “But I didn’t think it mattered. It wasn’t like I was going to go anyway.” Lowering my voice, leaning in a little, I add; “You know I’d never leave you.” 

“You sure about that?” Eric slides a hand up along my back, eyes on mine, focused and almost piercingly intense. 

“Of course I’m sure, you fool. What, did you think I was just going to run off to New York all of a sudden and not tell you?” 

“No,” he shakes his head, eyes now cast down toward my lips. “I trust you, but just in case you were thinking about it...” He looks back up, eyes meeting mine again, forcing me to stare back. “Don’t.” 

The hand on my back slides down to my ass, cupping it through my jeans and my mouth falls open a little, surprised by how brazen he is this this morning. “Cause I’ll come after you, Lucy. I’ll hunt you down like a damn dog. Trust me.” 

“Fuck, Eric,” I laugh, trying hard not to acknowledge the sudden sexual tension in the air. “I don’t doubt it.” 

“You look really nice today, by the way,” he tells me, brushing a rouge strand of hair back behind my ear. “One might go so far as to say you look hot as hell....” 

“Then one is full of shit,” I smile, despite my mixed emotions, draping my arms over his shoulders. Staring into one another’s eyes like this, with smiles that come so easily, so naturally, it’s hard to imagine that there could possibly be another side to him, a darker one, a hidden one that I’m not privy to.

“Yeah, listen, Lucy,” Becky clears her throat, clutching her binder against her chest. “I think I’m going to go. I’ll um... I’ll talk to you later... I... bye.” 

“Okay, Becky, I’ll see you later. It was nice talking to you.” I give her an awkward little wave that Eric then mimics, earning himself a slap to the arm. 

“Ow... you little bitch.” 

An uncomfortable looking Becky turns and walks away without another word and as soon as she’s out of earshot, the two of us begin to laugh. 

“I’m sorry, Lucy. I think I might have scared your new friend off...” 

I’m helpless to do little more than smile at him as we stand there in the hall, his arms wrapped around my waist. “I’ll forgive you this time, but just because you went to all the trouble of getting my necklace back.” 

“Necklace?” Eric furrows his brow in confusion. “I don’t know what you’re...” Glancing down at my neck, he gasps loudly. “Oh look! Where did that come from?”

“My boyfriend, the most thoughtful son of a bitch this side of Denver, that’s who,” I tell him, peppering his lips and cheeks with a flurry of grateful kisses. 

“Son of a bitch, huh?” he chuckles, allowing the steady avalanche of kisses to wash over him. “You’re lucky I love you, or I’d knock your ass out for a comment like that! Kathy Harris is a damn saint!” 

“I wasn’t taking a dig at your Mom, moron. I mean, compared to mine she’s practically Martha fucking Stuart herself... I’m just trying to compliment you. You’re awesome and I want you to know that.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Awesome and broke as hell. You wouldn’t believe how much that thing cost me. That old bastard ripped me off big time.” 

“Then why did you buy it?” 

“Because,” he mutters, shrugging his shoulders, suddenly looking far more bashful than usual. “It was important to you and... I don’t know... you’re important to me... or whatever.” 

“Aw, don’t go getting all soft on me, Harris.”

Eric’s response is a smile that immediately lets me know that I should have chosen my words better. “I’m never soft around you, baby,” he tells me, wiggling his eyebrows. “Believe me.”

“I guess I walked right into that one...” 

“Hey, how’s the face doing, by the way?” Eric tilts his head back, frowning a little as he examines my face. Raising a tentative hand, he gently caresses my bruised cheek with his thumb. “Does it hurt? It doesn’t look as bad as I thought it would.” 

“The magic of make-up. Believe me, I looked like absolute shit this morning, and yes, it does hurt, a lot, and I feel very, very, very stupid.” 

“Well, even so,” he sighs, slowly tracing a finger along my split bottom lip. “I think what you did yesterday was very, very, very cool and I for one am very, very, very glad that you stood up for yourself like that.” 

“Thank you.” 

Eric plants a small kiss on my forehead, resting a hand on the back of my neck. “Also, I think you look very, very, very pretty today.” 

“Are you mocking me, you dork?” 

“Maybe,” he grins. “Hey, did you know that dork is the technical term for a whale’s penis?” 

“Is it, now?” I laugh. “Please tell me more. I love hearing about whale dicks. I’m so into that shit.” 

Eric’s smile quickly vanishes and he proceeds to stare daggers at something behind me. “Speaking of dicks,” he mutters. 

Glancing over my shoulder, I see Brooks stood at the other end of the hall by his locker.

“That asshole is staring at us,” he mutters the words through clenched teeth and looking down, I notice his hands are curled up into fists by his sides. Is all this really just over a cracked windshield, one he didn’t even end up having to pay for in the end? 

“Why would Brooks be staring at us?” I ask. I can guess why, I’m simply curious what his response will be. “And is he a dick or an asshole? Make up your mind.” 

“The first one... Both... whichever is worse... God, I can’t stand that smug bastard! He’s staring at us cause he’s a nosey fucker who can’t help himself, just like his Mom!” 

“Woah! That’s a tad harsh, don’t you think?” 

“Fuck no! You know I hate that guy!” 

I do know. In fact I read all about it just this morning... 

“Or maybe he’s staring at you,” Eric suggests, just as Brooks looks back over at us. “I wouldn’t put it past that snake in the grass to try and steal another man’s girlfriend...” Before I can even register what’s happening, Eric takes me in his arms, pressing his lips hard against my own, dominating and possessive now as opposed to sweet and tender. I let him kiss me for a few seconds before putting my hand on his chest, lightly pushing him away. 

“I’ve got to get to History. I can’t be late again, but I’ll see you at lunch, okay?” 

“What?” Eric frowns, tongue darting out briefly to lick his lower lip as we separate. “Are you mad at me or something?” 

“No, but I do want to talk to you about something later,” I admit, finding it far easier now to stare down at my shoes than at his face. 

“Oh, and what would that be regarding exactly?”

Looking back up at him, I’m half convinced he’ll know what it’s about just by looking at me. “I’ll tell you later.”

“Oh fuck that, Lucy! Come on! Tell me now!” 

“No, you impatient fuck,” I laugh. “We’ll have to talk about it later, I’ve got to go to History now.” 

“Fine. You run along to your precious History class. I wouldn’t want to keep you from it.” 

“Oh shut up, Eric. I’ll see you at lunch, alright?” I plant a quick kiss on his cheek but his expression remains stoic. When I get no response, I shrug my shoulders and turn around, beginning to walk down the hallway towards my next class. 

“Yeah, well maybe I won’t let you have lunch with me!” he calls out. “How would you like that?!” 

I do a quick 360 degree turn, flipping him off before continuing along the hallway. 

“Hey! Fuck you right back, Lucy!”

I continue walking for another few seconds before he shouts; “I’ll meet you down at the commons, alright?!” 

“Maybe you will and maybe you won’t!” I call back over my shoulder, smiling as I head toward the stairs. 

Sitting in History , I continue to play with the silver heart-shaped locket dangling from my neck. All morning I’d envisioned the inevitable conversation happening, but when push had come to shove, I couldn’t articulate the words quite as easily as I had done in my mind. Am I really ready to open that can of worms, am I really willing to probe deeper and find something I don’t like, something that potentially scares me? 

Somehow the next few classes manage to feel as though they’re passing by both quickly and at a snail’s pace. I don’t absorb a word spoken in any of them. I rise from my seat when each bell rings and walk almost robotically to the next classroom, slumping down into one chair after another, pretending to listen to one teacher after another. Lost in my own little world. Just thinking, thinking, thinking. 

I arrive at the commons before him and soon find myself sitting at a table in the corner with Dylan, Zach and Nate. 

“So,” Dylan says, slumped over in the chair directly across from me. “Brooks said he saw Eric trying to devour you whole in the hallway this morning. I see you managed to survive the incident unscathed.”

“What happened?” Nate asks between bites of his sandwich. “You didn’t try to run away from him again, did you?” Watching the food churning around in his mouth as he speaks does little to help my own appetite. 

“Nah, man, sounds to me like Harris was just worried about Brooks sniffing around his territory,” Zach chimes in with a grin. 

“His territory?” I repeat, feeling my eyes widen. “Excuse me?” 

“Hey Lucy, see that girl in the pink shirt walking over?” Nate gestures with a nod of his head toward a tall, blonde haired girl walking by our table. 

“Yeah, what about her?” 

“You know her and Eric used to have a thing, right? From what I hear, they were pretty hot and heavy there for a while.”

“And you’re telling me this, why?” 

“I don’t know,” he smiles innocently, shrugging his shoulders. “Just letting you know that maybe Eric isn’t the only one who should be worried about marking his territory...” 

Dylan’s long skinny fingers are busy disassembling the less than appetizing taco sat atop his lunch tray. “Dude,” he sighs, looking like he’s trying not to smile. “Please don’t stir shit.” 

“I’m not stirring anything!” Nate insists, placing a hand over his heart. “You know I’m not one for drama and gossip, Dylan!” 

“I don’t really care,” I interject, picking the crust off the unappealing looking sandwich in front of me. “But what exactly do you mean by her and Eric had a thing? What constitutes a thing?” 

That causes Nate’s grin to grow even wider as he leans across the lunch table toward me. 

“Who had a thing with me?” Eric places a hand on my shoulder, scaring the absolute shit out of me by suddenly appearing at the table out of nowhere. He glances down at me when I jump up in surprise and laughs, offering me a quick pat on the arm before settling into the seat next to me with a groan. 

“We were just talking about you and your former lover over there,” Nate tells him, once again gesturing toward the girl in pink, now sat two tables over from us. 

Eric glances over at the girl in question then rolls his eyes. “Her? Oh, give me a break, dude, and what self-respecting guy uses the term lover anyway?” 

Dylan flicks a sizable chunk of bell-pepper across the table, hitting Nate in the chest, leaving a small stain on his shirt. I’m the only one who seems to notice and Dylan smiles when he looks up to see me watching him. 

“He’s right there, dude,” Zach laughingly agrees. “Any guy our age who uses the term lover has probably never had one.” 

“Been reading your Mom’s harlequin romance novels in the bathtub again, Nate?” Eric asks, resting a hand on the back of my chair. 

“Picturing me in the bathtub again, are you, Harris?” Nate shoots back. 

“Yeah,” Eric nods his head. “With me standing next to you and a toaster in my hands.” 

The guys start to laugh and I join in, but once again find myself consumed with thoughts of the website. Although I’d been easily able to write off certain parts as typical dramatic teenage ramblings, other parts hadn’t been so easy to dismiss. And other parts haven’t seemed to stop rattling around in my head all morning, over and over again, begging to be questioned.

“Don’t listen to him, Lucy,” Nate waves a hand dismissively. “He’s just trying to change the subject cause he doesn’t want you to know about his torrid love affair with what’s her name over there.” 

“Torrid love affair!” Eric scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’ve never heard something so ridiculous in all my life and keep in mind I’ve had to listen to your constant babbling the past three years...” 

“Quit it, Dylan!” Zach loudly complains as another piece of taco goes flying in his direction. Dylan’s expression doesn’t change, with a flick of a long index finger, he sends another piece flying then another. “Cut it out, Klebold! I mean it!” 

“What did you mean when you said they were hot and heavy?” I blurt. “What exactly does that mean?” 

“Lucy,” Eric reaches over and rests a hand atop mine on the table, looking like he’s trying hard not smile. “It really doesn’t matter.” 

I look back and fourth between Eric and Nate then over at the girl in question again. 

“Oooh, someone’s jealous!” Nate laughs, rubbing his hands together maniacally. 

“I am not jealous. I don’t give a shit.” The lie is so poorly told that it causes all four of them to laugh at me. 

“I think thou protest too much,” Dylan chuckles. 

“Oh shut up, all of you, I am not fucking jealous!” 

Eric folds his arms behind his head, grinning broadly. “Mmh, sounds like something a girl who was dying of jealously would say to me, what do you boys think?” 

“Oh yeah,” Zach agrees. “Definitely.” 

“We can practically smell the envy seeping out of your damn pores, Lucy,” Nate teases. “There’s no denying it now.” 

“You have exactly five seconds to shut the fuck up before I skin you all alive!” 

“Woah, calm the hell down, girl! Holy shit! She’s about to to go all terminator on our asses just like she did with Laura!“

“Damn, I still can’t believe I missed that,” Nate sighs. 

“Oh, it was beautiful, man,” Dylan tells him, popping a sizable chunk of of taco meat into his mouth. “A fucking masterpiece. What she did to Laura’s face made the Mona Lisa look like a pile of total garbage.” 

“The bitch had it coming, that’s for sure,” Eric agrees. “About time somebody put the fear of God in her if you ask me. Maybe now she’ll think twice before opening her big mouth again.” 

“So anyway,” Nate continues, glancing back over at blondie. “I digress, Eric and that girl dated for a couple of months-.” 

“Oh Dude, come on!” Eric groans loudly. “Lucy doesn’t wanna hear about this!” 

“Well, clearly she does, my man,” Nate grins, looking back and fourth between the two of us. “Like I said, the two of them went out for a while and Eric seemed to be really into her too.” 

“He did, huh?” I ask, determined to sound as unbothered as possible by this information. 

“Nate, you’re being a jackass,” Dylan tells him, barely sounding interested as he rests an elbow on the table, propping his face up in one of his hands. God, he looks exhausted. 

“You love it, Klebold, don’t lie.”

“It wasn’t anything serious, Lucy,” Eric assures me. “Or I would have told you about it.”

Like you told me about your website? The words are on my lips but I don’t allow myself to speak them. Not here. Not in front of them. 

“We used to go to the movies together a lot and hang out at each other’s houses occasionally. That was it.” 

“It’s cool, Eric. You don’t to have to explain anything to me.” 

Besides maybe the website.

“I don’t?” 

“No, I mean, I don’t care if you went out with other people before we started dating.” 

“Not at all?” he asks, looking a little disappointed. “You’re not even the tiniest bit jealous that I hung out with other girls?”

“No.”

“Not even a little?”

“I.... no, not at all.” 

My hesitation has them all laughing again. 

“Oh, fuck all of you! It’s like having lunch with the three stooges, I swear to God!” I sigh heavily, pretending to stand up from the table. “Maybe I’ll go see if Laura and the girls want to hang out again...” 

“Good luck with that one,” Zach laughs. 

“Why would she need luck?” Dylan asks, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m sure they’d love nothing more than for Lucy to go over and join them. Hell, I’m sure they’d love it if we all went over and sat with them. Let’s do it, guys. Let’s really make their day!” 

That makes us all laugh again. 

“You just sit your jealous ass down, missy,” Eric demands, tugging on the sleeve of my shirt. “Sit down and admit that the thought of another girl anywhere near me makes your damn blood boil. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, we’re all friends here.” 

“Alright, maybe I am a little jealous...” I admit, sitting back down into my chair. 

“I fucking knew it!” Eric laughs, pumping a fist in the air. 

“A little jealous that she managed to get away from you!” 

“Oh, now that hurts,” Eric cries, clutching a hand to his chest for dramatic effect. “Damn, go for the jugular, why don’t you?” 

“Nah, she’s full of it, Reb,” Dylan insists with a wry smile. “This one follows you around like a little lost puppy.” 

“Ugh, I know, dude, I can’t get rid of her. She’s more like a cat in heat though, if you ask me.” 

“You don’t say,” Dylan replies, suddenly looking a little intrigued. “And why would that be exactly?” 

“Oh man, you wouldn’t believe some of the shit we get up to. I mean, you should have seen the two of us in my car the other night...” 

“Oh yeah?” Dylan grins, leaning over the table a little towards him. “Go on.” 

“Eric!” I interrupt him with a quick slap to the arm. “Don’t tell him about that!” 

“What?” he frowns at me briefly before turning back to face Dylan. “Anyway, what I was getting at before I was so rudely interrupted was, we managed to get that piece of shit car of mine up to a hundred miles an hour on the freeway, it was fucking awesome!” 

I scowl at Eric for a second before noticing Zach smiling at us. “You two are so sweet,” he says, making a heart formation with his fingers. “Ah, young love!”

“Really warms your heart, doesn’t it?” Dylan adds. “Totally doesn’t make you wanna lose your lunch all over the table.” 

“When Lucy snaps again and goes looking for trouble, what’s her name better keep an eye out!” 

“You talk a lot of shit for a guy with a last name like yours, you know,” I tell him, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “There’s a lot of material there, Nate. Do you really want to keep testing me?” 

“Oh shit, Reb, hold her back,” Dylan laughs. “She’s about to jump over this table and beat Nate’s ass!” 

“Fifty bucks says Peters annihilates him!” Zach jokes, bringing a fist down hard on the table. 

“You control your damn woman, Harris!” Nate tells him. “Or I’ll have to do it for you!” 

“Don’t make me be the one who jumps over this table, Nate,” Eric replies with a grin. “Cause I’ll fucking do it, man!” 

Then the four of them are laughing again. 

“Hey Lucy, want me to kick Nate’s ass for you?” Eric asks. “I mean, I’m pretty sure you can take the fucker yourself, but I’d be more than happy to-.” 

For some unknown reason, despite my mixed emotions, I’m suddenly compelled to seize Eric’s face in my hands. He stares at me, confused for a second or two before I kiss him. I close my eyes, letting my lips dissolve into his, letting everything but him, I and this moment fade away completely. “I love you so fucking much, you know,” I mutter the words against his lips, as quietly as possible, knowing how ultimately pointless whispering is with the others staring at us. I just wanted one more kiss. One more perfect moment between us before the inevitable opening of the flood gates. 

“What was that for?” he asks, donning a slightly lopsided smirk as he looks at me, still holding his face in my hands. 

“Because you’re great,” I tell him simply, planting a kiss on either of his cheeks in turn. 

“A great big pain in the ass maybe,” Nate mutters. “I’m about to blow chunks all over the table looking at the two of them.” 

Dylan and Nate seem to feel similarly, proceeding to make a series of loud gagging noises. 

“Alright, alright, I love you too, but not in front of the boys, woman, damn!” Eric smiles, shuffling his chair closer to mine. 

“Oh, just fuck right here on the table, why don’t you?” Dylan suggests, cracking open the can of soda in front of him. “Please don’t let our presence disturb you.” 

“We would, you know,” Eric jokes, throwing an arm over my shoulder. “Only you perverts would like it too much if we did.” 

We make a quick trip to the smoker’s pit after we eat and with Laura absent today, I end up being the one hounded for information about yesterday’s fight, regaling several kids I’ve barely even spoken to before with the tale of how I “handed her ass to her” the day previous. Eric chimes in from time to time, embellishing certain parts of the story for his own amusement. “Oh yeah, I saw the whole thing, Lucy had her in a headlock for a good fifteen minutes, crying for her Mom...” 

“Did your Dad say anything about your messed up face?” He asks as we walk back up the very steps I claimed to fall down the day before.

“He thought you might have done it to me actually,” I reply quietly, slowly climbing the steps in time with him. 

“Are you fucking shitting me? No way... “

“Yes way.” 

“He seriously thinks I gave you a split lip and a black eye?” Eric asks incredulously.

“No, I don’t think he actually believes that. I don’t think he knew what to think to be honest. I told him I was on a skateboard and fell down the steps.” 

“And he didn’t buy that perfectly crafted lie?” Eric sarcastically replies, holding open the door for me. “Well, color me surprised. Why didn’t you just tell him what happened?”

“Because he would have grounded me from here to eternity,” I explain, walking into the hall ahead of him. “Then there’d be zero chance of me being able to leave with you tomorrow night.” 

“Oh, I guess that’s true. Hey, did you establish the cover story yet?”

The two of us head towards the stairs, among a steady stream of students spilling out of a classroom up ahead. 

“Yep. I told him and Mom I was staying over at Sarah’s tomorrow night,” I tell him. “So we should have a good ten hours or so before they even realize I’m gone.” 

“Perfect.”

“Did you establish yours yet?” 

“Uh-huh,” he nods. “I just told them I’m staying at Dylan’s again. I’m pretty much ready to go. My bags are packed and I’ve taken the liberty of booking us a room, three states over.” 

“You did, huh? That’s great. Wait, did you book the room or did Mr McVeigh?” I joke, remembering the name on Eric’s fake I.D. The one he used that night we stayed at the motel. 

McVeigh. McVeigh. Why had that name sounded so familiar? The only McVeigh I can think of is Timothy McVeigh, the perpetrator of the Oklahoma City Bombings. Surely Eric didn’t even pick the name though. It was probably already on it when he acquired it, by whatever means he did so. 

“You okay?” he asks, slightly concerned, after a few long seconds of silence on my part. The website, I scream at myself internally. Ask him about the fucking website. Do it now, you damn chicken. Make like the Adidas slogan and just fucking do it! 

“Yeah, all good,” I nod, forcing a smile. “Is it something a little nicer than that seedy motel we went to last time?” I ask hopefully, two of us now climbing the stairs to the second floor of the building. 

“Anything would be nicer than the cockroach Inn we stayed in that night,” he says, grimacing a little at the memory. “But honestly, I’d be happy anywhere as long as I was with you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” I assure him, smiling happily as we ascend the stairs. “Only you could make a cockroach motel feel like the four seasons.” 

“So,” Eric exhales heavily as we walk reach the top, starting down a hallway now bustling with students. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about this morning? Is something wrong?” 

“I-.”

“Or did I do something?” he interrupts. 

I stop walking then so does he, taking him by the hand, I lead him over towards the row of lockers running along the length of the hallway. 

“Eric, the thing is-.”

“What’s the thing, Lucy?” 

“Well, if you can shut the fuck up for two seconds, I might just tell you!” 

“Sorry, go ahead,” he mimics zipping his lips closed. “I’m all ears.” 

I take a deep breath before asking the question, the one that’s been my one pervading thought all morning. “Why didn’t you ever tell me about your website?” 

Eric raises his eyebrows in surprise. “My website?” he repeats the words as if they’re somehow foreign to him. 

“Yeah, your website. I known all about it.” 

He’s quiet for a moment or two then licks his lips, furrowing his brow. “You never asked.”

“Oh come one, why would I ask you if you have a website? And why did you never mention it?” 

“I never mentioned that I got a crayon stuck up my nose when I was six either. Is that vital information too?” 

“Eric, don’t be ridiculous. I just... I thought you told me everything.”

“Well, obviously there’s things you don’t know about me. We’ve only been together a couple of weeks. What, am I supposed to do, write you a complete fucking autobiography to refer to so you have all the facts?” 

“Jesus,” I exclaim, more than a little surprised to suddenly find myself on the receiving end of such hostility. “Getting a little defense, aren’t we?”

“Am I?” he snaps. “Am I fucking really?” Eric leans in, lowering his voice again. “Could that possibly be because you’re trying to turn my dumb little website into some big dramatic fucking thing?!” 

I’m so taken aback, I don’t know how to respond for a second, so I just stand there, staring at him. There’s an intensity in his eyes that’s hard to look away from. 

“Did you tell anyone else about it?” 

“No,” I shake my head. “And I wasn’t trying to turn it into some big thing either,” I assure him, confused as to how I’ve ended up being the one explaining myself in this situation. “I just didn’t understand why you wouldn’t tell me about it. Or why...”

“Or why what?” he asks impatiently. 

“Why you would...” I have to swallow a lump in my throat before I can get the words out. “Say some of that stuff.” 

“Wait, hold up, how the hell did you even find out about my site in the first place?”

“Nope,” I shake my head again. “I’m not telling you.”

“And why the fuck not?” he demands. 

“Because you snapped at me, asshole!”

“Lucy, look, I didn’t mean to-.” 

“No, save it, Harris! You’re not going to speak to me like that! Fuck you!” I turn to head down the hallway, away from him, expecting him to come running after me. When he doesn’t, I look back over my shoulder to find him still stood by the lockers, staring at me. “What are you doing?” I sigh. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re supposed to come after me and apologize, dumbass.” 

“Oh, right, shit.” He jogs up the hall after me. “Cut me some slack, alright? I’m still getting the hang of this boyfriend thing.” 

“Husband thing now, remember?” 

“That’s right,” he smiles, looking a little relieved. “So, you still wanna be married to me, even after I snapped at you?” 

And run a secret website where you talk about wanting to kill people, I think, but I don’t say it, knowing it’ll immediately launch us straight into another argument. 

“Hey, we’re bound to snap at one another from time to time and if my parents and their relationship is any indication, that’s what marriage is all about.” 

“Not ours,” he insists with a determined shake of his head. “I don’t want what we have to turn into anything remotely like that. What we have is different. Would you laugh at me if I said it was...special?” 

“Yes, I would,” I laugh, proving his theory correct. “But only because I know how much it embarrasses you to admit that you actually have emotions.” 

“I’m not a damn robot, you know...” 

“If you were you’d be an idiot-bot 3000, programmed exclusively to annoy the hell of out of me.” 

“I’m just a love machine,” he sings quietly, hands around my waist as we stand there in the hall. “And I don’t work for nobody but you...” 

Then I’m laughing again. 

“You know I think you’re perfect, right?” he tells me, smiling softly as hazel eyes bore into my own. I’m so lost in the moment, watching him smile, staring deeply into his eyes, that I’m stunned I even manage to remember what the argument was about. 

“Oh, I am not, you filthy liar! Stop, trying to distract me!” 

“Distract you, me?” he gasps. “Never, I-.”

“Tell me about this website of yours,” I interject. “Please.” 

Eric sighs heavily, hanging his head in response. 

“Come on, we really need to talk about it.” 

“Really?” he asks, frowning a little as he looks back up at me. “And do we REALLY need to talk about it right now, right here in the middle of the hallway?” 

“I guess it can wait, but I-.” 

He surprises me again by grabbing my face with both hands and planting a hard kiss against my lips, one I suspect is more to shut me up than show affection. “I love you, alright? That’s all you really need to know about me. Nothing else matters, you got that?” 

“I got that,” I nod, fixated on the piercingly intense hazel eyes staring back at me. “But we will talk about this later, won’t we?” 

“Sure,” he smiles, cupping my chin in his hand. “Whatever you say, Lucy Goosey.” 

“Don’t you dare fucking patronize me, shithead.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it, sugar tits.” Eric ruffles my hair, laughing as I bat his hand away. “You know, I don’t mind lingering in the hallway with you while I should be in trig, but I really don’t need Mrs. Holloway on my dick again about being late...”

I give him a look that immediately has a small smirk playing on his lips. “Did that make you jealous too?” 

“I’m not even going to justify that with a response.” 

“You can relax, Lucy. I don’t think there’s much chance of me fucking my sixty something year old trigonometry teacher... as much as I might want to.” 

“Ugh! What the hell is wrong with you?” 

“I have a rare disorder that can only by cured by a beautiful girl kissing me over and over and over again.” 

“Oh, you poor thing,” I sigh, draping my arms over his shoulders. “Maybe I can help you out.”

“How?” he asks. “Do you happen to know where I can find one?”

“Oh, you are such a dick sometimes!” I tell, slapping him in the chest. 

“Maybe so,” he grins, grabbing the wrist of the hand I just slapped him with. “But you love me anyway, right? 

“Yes, unfortunately.” 

Leaning in, he presses his forehead against mine, fingers finding and becoming intertwined with my own. 

“Hey, looking good, Harris!” Mark, a football player from the year below calls out, knocking the cap from Eric’s head as him and his friends walk past. Their laughter rings out loudly as they go, echoing cruelly through the corridor.

“God, I fucking hate that guy,” Eric mutters, bending down to pick up his hat from the floor. 

“You and me both. For what it’s worth, Anna hooked up with him last Summer and she said he had a baby carrot situation going on downstairs,” I tell him, hoping to brighten his a mood a little. “Classic overcompensation.” 

“Now it all makes sense,” Eric says, managing a small smile. That’s when another guy who plays football with Scott walks by, throwing an arm out, deliberately knocking Eric to the floor. 

“What the hell is your problem, man?!” Eric yells, staring up at him from where he landed, sprawled out on the ground. 

“Yeah, you dick! Why the fuck did you do that?!” I snap, seriously considering kneeing him in the balls as he stands there, stupidly smirking at us. 

“Oh shut the fuck up, you dumb bitch,” he laughs. “Laura was right, man, you two rejects belong together.” The words hurt, of course they do, even coming from a braindead dipshit like him but Eric is still laying on the floor. Turning my back to the dickhead who pushed him, I bend down to help him up. 

“I can’t believe that asshole just did that. Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine!” Eric snaps, quickly rising to his feet without my assistance, dusting his shirt off. He stares up the hallway after the guy who’s already started walked away, laughing as he heads off in the direction of his friends. 

“I hate those stupid sons of bitches so fucking much,” Eric fumes, quietly seething as he stares towards the other end of the hall. “This world would be so much better off if people like that didn’t exist in the first place...” 

“Can’t argue with you there,” I agree, pulling him into a hug. His body is stiff for a couple of seconds and he feels almost like a plank of wood in my arms before he finally relaxes into it, wrapping his arms around me, sighing as he buries his face in my neck. “Fucking lobotomites,” he mutters. “All of them.”

Smiling sympathetically, I bring my hands up, cupping his still frowning face between them and plant a small kiss on the tip of his nose. He rolls his eyes, but a tiny smile appears on his lips. “Do you know what scaifsm is, Lucy?”

I shake my head, admitting that I don’t. 

“Well,” he sighs, throwing an arm over my shoulder as we walk start to walk down the hallway again. “It’s a form of torture that used to be popular in the Persian empire during the fifth century.”

“Oh, look at you,” I tease, reaching a hand up to rub the fingers of the one dangling over my shoulder. “Someone’s been paying attention in History.” 

“A person would be stripped naked, covered in milk and honey then placed between two hollowed out tree trunks,” he explains. “Then they’d be left in the middle of a swamp somewhere for the insects and rats to come feast upon. The unfortunate fucker this was happening to, would be fed the same mixture of milk and honey every day, just enough to keep them alive, just enough to drag out their pain and torment as long as humanly possible. Just long enough for them to be devoured completely, still alive the entire time, experiencing every excruciating moment with perfect clarity...” 

“Are you suggesting that’s what we do to those assholes?” I joke, attempting to lighten the mood. “Because I don’t mind springing for the milk and honey if you’re willing to hollow out a few trees.” 

Eric manages another small smile, one that looks a little more genuine this time. “Hey, can I tell you something I’ve never told you before... something that might change your opinion of me entirely?” 

My breath catches in my throat. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

Eric pauses then starts to smile, biting down on his lower lip. “You know what?” he smirks, shrugging his shoulders. “Never mind.”

“No, Eric! Tell me! I hate it when you do this!” 

As soon as I say that, all I can think is; YOU KNOW WHAT I HATE????????!!!!!!!!!

“Never mind,” he shakes his head. “I’m just screwing with you.”

“I prefer it when you screw with me in the fun way,” I inform him with a sigh. “Not the way you’re doing it now.”

“Oh I bet so.” Eric grins, tongue darting out to lick his lower lip. “Sadly, I’m just gonna have to wait until tomorrow night to screw you the fun way. I’m working tonight.”

“My sympathies.” I’m a little disappointed even though I already know I probably wouldn’t have been able to see him tonight anyway. I’m working too. 

“Nah, it won’t be so bad,” he says. “It’s only a couple of hours and besides; I’m working with Dylan so I can pretty much do whatever the fuck I want.”

“Don’t you do that anyway?”

“Well, yeah, but I don’t have to be sneaky about it when it’s just Vodka and I there.” 

“What kind of shenanigans could you two possibly get up to in a damn pizza shop anyway?”

“Shenanigans?” he scoffs, laughing at me. “What are you, seventy years old?” 

“Oh, shut up.” 

“Hey, remember that shenaigan you and I had on the couch in the back room,” he asks, lips turning up into a wicked smirk. “Remember that, Lucy, our very first shenanigan?” 

“I’m not about to go forgetting it any time soon, no,” I admit with a smile, trying to will myself not to blush as I glance around the hall. 

“Neither am I. I think about it all the time when I’m at work, you know, replaying every second in my head. You wouldn’t believe the amount of times I wanted to brag about that one to Dylan and the guys...” 

“You better fucking not!” 

“Relax, I never said a word,” he laughingly assures me. “I’m all about professionalism in the workplace. I’d never bring up the fact that we broke in... and that I’m such a damn stud you had to have me then and there.”

“Oh, is that what happened?” I grin, remembering the night in question. “Well, I’m going to be working tonight myself, but I’ll be thinking about you the entire time, you damn stud.” 

“Working? You got a job, why didn’t you tell me? What’s with all these damn secrets, woman?!” 

“I’m just babysitting for Mr and Mrs. Williams again,” I tell him amusedly. 

“Oh... that’s hardly a job though, is it?

“Yeah, it is!” I insist. “I’m getting paid, aren’t I?”

“Well, I should hope so, having to deal with a bunch of screaming brats all night. Tell me this though, do you like to sit on anything else, or is it just babies?” 

“What else would I be sitting on?” I ask, fighting a smile. 

“Mmm, let me think.... a porch swing,” he suggests. “A rocking chair maybe, or it could be your boyfriend’s giant-.” 

“Alright, stop,” I laugh, clamping a hand over his mouth. He proceeds to lick my fingers, making me pull my hand away and wipe it down on my jeans. “Ew, you slobbered all over me...” 

“Why don’t you stop by when you’re done? There might even be a free slice of pizza or two in it for you.” 

“Okay, fine,” I pretend to relent. “If there’s free pizza involved, I might consider it.” 

The rest of the school day passes by quickly and thankfully without further incident; a welcome relief from yesterday’s drama and unnecessary mayhem. Later that evening, Mom lets me borrow the car to drive over to the Williams’ place. The kids have already gone to bed by the time I arrive so I decide to do some homework to pass the time. That’s when I remember that tomorrow is going to be my last day of high school and that what I’m doing now is ultimately pointless as well as boring. 

I head upstairs to check on the kids, finding them all sleeping soundly. The last time I was babysitting, Eric showed up and surprised me. Smiling at the memory, I walk down the hall towards the phone. It rings a couple of times before it’s picked up and Dylan’s voice comes on over the line; “Blackjack Pizza, how can I help you?” 

“Well, first you could help me get my own private island then you could help me get a nice big yacht to take me there and back whenever I want.” 

Surprisingly, Dylan doesn’t seem to recognize my voice or be high on patience. “Yeah, yeah, we all want things we can’t have, lady. I’m a little busy here, did you want to place an order or what?” 

The curt tone takes me completely by surprise but I can’t help smiling over the fact that he doesn’t realize it’s me. “I just called to ask if your refrigerator was running.”

“Oh sweet merciful Christ! Are you for real?!” There’s an abrupt thudding on the other line, like the phone being put down. I hear the muffled sound of arguing then the distant sound of Dylan declaring; “I don’t get paid enough for this shit! You’re a manager, you deal with this idiot!” 

The phone is picked up again; “Hello Ma’am, sorry about that, this is Eric, I’m manager here at Blackjack. What seems to be the problem?”

I’m now smiling so wide that it’s starting to hurt my face a little. “Well, there’s two problems. The first one is that rude employee of yours who answered the phone. As a loyal customer of Blackjack, I insist you fire him immediately.” 

“Consider it done. That son of a bitch has been nothing but a liability since the day he started. What’s the other problem?” 

“Well, the other problem is that my boyfriend is stuck at work and not sitting here watching shitty made for TV movies with me,” I sigh into the phone. 

“I’m sorry to hear that, Ma’am, but I really don’t see how I can help you. Maybe you should take that up with your boyfriend, instead of calling up random pizza joints and harassing the staff.”

“Fine, I’ll hang up. You have a nice day... Eric, was it?” 

“No, wait, stay on the line,” he pleads. “You sound kinda hot...” 

“I’m not.”

“Liar. I can tell from your voice that you’re sexy. It’s a special gift I have.” 

“Oh yeah,” I grin, coiling the phone cord around my finger absentmindedly. “Well, I’m bald, 6’2 and morbidly obese, sound like your type?” 

“Oh baby, keep talking...”

“I’ve got a wooden leg and I’m missing three fingers on my left hand...” 

“Damn, you’re making me so hard...” 

“Fuck, Eric!”

He starts to laugh and I’m smiling like an idiot at the sound as I grip the phone to my ear. 

“That’s what you wanna do to me, huh?” 

“Maybe...” 

“More like definitely, don’t lie to me, I know you wish I was there.”

“Of course I do,” I admit with a sigh, leaning up against the wall as I hold the phone to my ear.

“Remember how much fun we had the last time we played Mommy and Daddy?” he asks, voice low, throaty and far more sensuous than it has any right to be, for a moment or two I struggle to gather myself before I can answer with a simple; 

“Yes,” but it comes out awkwardly, making him laugh again. 

“Are you blushing right now?” he asks. I don’t need to see him to envision the smile that’s currently on his face. “I bet you are... Do you know what I’d be doing to you right now if I was there?”

“What?” I sigh, glancing over towards the doorway, afraid one of the kids might have suddenly appeared. “Tell me.” 

“Eric!” Dylan shouts his name loudly, clear as a bell on my end of the phone. 

“One sec, dude! It’s important, I swear!” Eric yells back, forgetting to put his hand over the receiver and almost deafening me. 

“Jesus, scream at me, why don’t you?” 

“Shit, sorry,” he laughs. “Anyway, how’s the babysitting going?”

“Meh. The kids have been asleep since I got here so it’s been pretty boring. There wasn’t much to do bedsides raiding the fridge and attempting to do a little homework.”

“Hey, do you think they have any weird shit in their house?” 

“Like what?” I ask. 

“I don’t know, like some sort of secret sex dungeon or something...” 

“Yes, Eric. I’m absolutely sure that Mr. and Mrs. Williams have a secret sex dungeon.”

“You never know. I mean, when we get our own place someday, I’m assuming you’re gonna wanna have a sex dungeon.” 

“Oh, you could hardly call a house a home without one,” I sarcastically agree. 

“I’m gonna paint all four walls black and hang a sex swing.” 

“Nice to see you’re making goals for our future together, Eric.” 

“That’s me, baby, always thinking of us. Hey, speaking of swings, you still gonna swing by Blackjack on your way home?” 

“I’ll think about it,” I tell him, smiling as I coil the phone cord around my finger. 

“Reb! A little fucking help would be great!” Dylan yells from somewhere in the background. 

“Fuck, Lucy, I’ve gotta go. Try to stop by later if you can. I really wanna see-.”

“Eric, I will rip that fucking phone right out of the Goddamn wall, I swear!” Dylan roars. 

“Hey, screw you, Vodka! This is an important phone call!” 

“Important, my ass! I’d bet my left nut that Lucy is on the other line!” 

“She isn’t, I swear! Hey... What the hell, man?! What do you think you’re doing?!” 

There’s a rustling sound on the other line, then Eric yelling; “You put that damn phone down right now, Vodka! I told you it isn’t her!” 

“Lucy?” Dylan’s voice, thick with sudden irritation, comes on over the line. 

“No, this is... Carol. I’m Eric’s cousin calling him because I have some very important news.”

“Carol, huh?” 

“Yes, and I think you should apologize for accusing poor Eric of talking to his girlfriend when-.” 

Dylan sighs heavily into the phone. “Listen up, Lucy, cause I’m only gonna tell you this once and once only...”

“I’m not Lucy. I told you my name is Carol!”

“Dude, if you say that to her, I swear to God, I’m gonna cripple you!” Eric warns him. 

Dylan says it anyway. “Lucy, Carol, whoever the fuck, just listen up! When Eric’s on the clock, he’s not available for cock...” 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Eric loudly groans. “Dylan, give me the damn phone!” 

I’m so surprised, I feel my jaw drop a little. “Wow, Dylan...” 

“We’re busy as hell right now, but stop by later for a slice if you can, alright? We gotta go!” 

“Dude!” Eric shouts, right before the line goes dead. 

I lounge on the couch, channeling surfing for a while before the parents get back, dismissing me for the evening with a thanks and two twenties. 

The night has grown bitterly cold and with the heating in Mom’s crappy old car barely working; I’m forced to keep my coat on as I drive, listening to a mix CD of Eric’s on the short journey there. It’s dark by the time I pull up outside Blackjack, finding a spot near Dylan’s BMW. Dark and freezing. 

They’ve already locked up for the night, I realize, trying and failing to open the door. Shivering slightly, I knock on the glass a few times. There’s no answer. I knock again. “Come on, guys, open up, it’s me!” I wait another few seconds. Nothing. I start knocking on the door again, harder this time. 

“We’re closed!” a voice roars from the other side. 

“Jesus, Dylan, what the hell is up your ass?!”

“I already told you that we’re fucking closed! What more do you... that you, Peters?” 

“Yeah, and I’m freezing my fucking tits off out here, let me in!” 

“Sorry, hold on,” he tells me, fumbling with the lock on the door. It finally opens, revealing a slightly sheepish looking Dylan stood behind it. “My bad, Lucy. I thought it was some pain in the ass customer... not Eric’s pain in the ass girlfriend.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Klebold. Just let me in, by the sound of it you could use some cold air to help you chill the fuck out.” 

“Nice to see you too, Peters,” Dylan laughs. “Sorry if I was a little short with you. It’s just been one hell of a long night.” 

“Don’t worry, Dylan,” Eric calls out, overhearing us from where he’s stood behind the counter. “You could never be short with anyone, no matter how hard you tried.”

Dylan locks the door and turns back around to face him. “Don’t listen to him, Lucy. He’s just pissed he had to legally be declared as a dwarf on his drivers license.” 

“Oh shut it, Dylan, you jolly green jackass!”

“I’ll give you points for originality there at least,” Dylan laughingly concedes, walking in behind the counter. “I don’t think I’ve actually been called that before,” he adds, disappearing into the back. 

“Hi,” Eric smiles at me from where he’s stood behind the counter, cloth and spray bottle in hand. 

“Hi back.” I walk over, smiling back at him as I lean up against the counter separating us. “Busy night?” 

“Understatement of the century,” he sighs tiredly, wiping down the countertop in front of him. “We had some rowdy assholes in here earlier and... yeah, I’m just glad tonight is over.” 

Dylan reappears, broom in hand, walking back out from behind the counter and offering it over to me. “Since you’re here, you might as well give us a hand cleaning up.”

“Alright,” I agree, shrugging my shoulders and taking the broom from him. “Just know that I’m going to be doing a half-assed job.” 

“Go ahead. You’ll still be doing twice as good a job as I usually would.” 

“No, Lucy didn’t come here to do your fucking work for you, dude,” Eric argues, spraying down the countertop again with the bottle of cleaning solution. “She isn’t getting paid for that shit, you are.”

“What’s the big deal, man? Lucy doesn’t mind, do you?” 

“No, I don’t mind sweeping the floor,” I tell him, running the brush along the tiles in front of the counter. “What the fuck else am I doing?” 

“See?” Dylan raises an eyebrow at him. 

“Yeah, well, I mind,” Eric sharply replies. “Sweep the damn floor yourself, or I’ll do it when I’m done with the register!” 

“Oh Jesus,” Dylan rolls his eyes. “Why do you look like you’re about to throw another damn hissy-fit? Is this about that thing with Evans and his fucktard buddies again?” 

“What thing with Evans? Are you taking about Scott?” 

“No,” Eric quickly replies, frowning deeply at Dylan. 

“Yes,” Dylan scowls back at him. “Scotty boy and his merry band of assholes showed up here earlier tonight. After hurling a couple of the usual insults at us, you know, fags, losers etc. they damn near trashed the fucking place. It took us a good half an hour to clean all that shit up! 

“Are you serious? Why would they do that?” 

“Oh come on, Lucy. It’s not like Eric hasn’t already told you that they like to come in here just to fuck with us from time to time.”

“It is like that, it’s exactly like that.”

I look over at Eric who is now running a hand along the back of his neck, staring down at the floor, unwilling or incapable of meeting my eye as Dylan speaks. 

“They bought a shit-tone of food,” he continues. “Then they just threw it around all over the place. Eric finally had to go over and try to stop the bastards and-.”

“Alright, enough!” Eric snaps. “It’s over now so let’s just fucking forget about it, alright?!” 

“Alright, man, God!” Dylan raises his hands defensively. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to but I just thought you might want Lucy to know.” 

“Why the hell would I want my girlfriend to know that her asshole ex likes to show up here to humiliate me for fun?!”

There’s a temporary struggle to find words, the three of us stood there, staring at one another in the empty pizzeria, emotion suddenly running high. Eric finally breaks the tension, laughing a little and shaking his head. “Not exactly the kind of thing that gets a girl’s panties wet, is it?” 

Dylan’s expression is sympathetic as he steps toward his friend, placing a large hand on his shoulder. “Those motherfuckers are going to get what’s coming to them, Reb. You just remember that. A reckoning is coming.” 

Envisioning the two of them on one of their “rebel missions” I feel myself start to smile, imagining their revenge, most likely coming in the form of toilet paper and firecrackers. 

“You’re a good friend, man,” Eric sighs, patting Dylan’s arm. “The best. I’m sorry if I was a dick.”

“Don’t be,” Dylan smiles understandingly. “That’s like you apologizing for 30% of your personality.” 

“That’s generous,” I mutter. 

“What was that, Lucy?” Eric smiles, finally meeting my eye again as he tosses a dirty cloth at me.

“I said it was generous!” I repeat, stepping out of his line of fire. Reaching into the pocket of my sweatshirt, I retrieve a long, thick joint, expertly rolled and then misplaced by my older sister. “And speaking of generosity, look what I have.” 

“Oh, it’s tempting,” Dylan admits, “but I don’t know if I should. I’m driving home after this.”

“Suit yourself, pussy.” Eric walks back over towards the counter. “More for us. I’ve just got to count what’s in the register first then we can go.” 

I grab two slices of slightly congealed looking pizza saved for me beneath the warmer and perch myself on the counter next to Eric, digging in while he counts the money in the register. Dylan walks around the shop, muttering to himself, “pizza oven, fryer, fan, lights in back...” making sure everything is turned off before they lock up for the night.

Soon Eric finishes up at the register, putting the money in the safe as Dylan sets the alarm. Then the three of us head outside into the cold night air. 

“Fuck, it’s freezing,” I complain, curling my hands up into the sleeves of my coat. 

Eric slides an arm through one of the straps of the backpack he’s carrying before coiling the other around my waist. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you warm,” he tells me, smiling as he rubs the tip of his nose against my own. “Come on, fuckos. Let’s head around back.” 

“And what about me, huh?” Dylan asks. “Who the fuck is gonna keep me warm?” 

“That sounds like a you problem, Vodka,” Eric laughs, giving my hand a little squeeze as we walk past the other small stores next to the pizzeria. 

Our breath is visible in the bitingly cold air as we walk but the warmth of his hand in mind somewhat helps revive my frozen fingers. 

“Why are we going around back?” I ask, confused. “There’s nobody out here, we might as well just stay here so we’re closer to the cars.” 

Eric glances back over his shoulder at Dylan and they smile at one another. 

“Oh God, what are you two dipshits up to now?” 

“Just a little science experiment,” Dylan replies innocently, shrugging his shoulders. Eric doesn’t say anything, he just smiles. 

“You’re not planning on performing it on me, are you?” I joke, glancing back at him. 

“Only if Eric gives me permission,” Dylan replies, winking at me. 

“Hey, hands off, Vodka!” 

“What?” Dylan laughs. “I didn’t say anything!” 

“Yeah, okay, man,” Eric does his best to sound irritated, but he’s visibly struggling to contain a smile. “I’ll let you off the hook this time but you wink at my girl like that again and you’re gonna lose that damn eye!” 

Leaning up against the brick wall out back, I take the joint from my pocket and light it up as Eric and Dylan begin work on their “science experiment.” Taking a deep drag, I watch as the two of them pull the lid off a garbage can a few meters away. 

“Please tell me the two of you aren’t about to go digging through trash...”

“Well, duh, of course we are. All the best stuff is in the garbage.” Eric bends over to unzip the backpack now laying on the ground by his feet, pulling out what looks to be a half empty bottle of soda. “Where do you think Dylan found that jacket?” 

“Don’t make me stuff you into this trash can, Reb!” Dylan snaps, picking the empty trash can in question up and flipping it over. 

Taking another drag, I watch Eric fumble in the darkness with the bottle for a minute or so after unscrewing the cap. He drops something inside then screws the lid back on and looks up at Dylan. The trash can is promptly placed down over the bottle then Eric and Dylan walk back over to me. 

“What are you guys doing exactly?” 

“Building a rocket,” Eric informs me with a smile. “I’ll take a hit of that now, thanks.” 

He takes the joint from my fingers, placing it between his lips as him and Dylan stare transfixed at the overturned trash can. “It’s just a little liquid nitrogen, heated up in a soda bottle,” he explains between drags. “And it’s gonna that ordinary every day trash can into a damn rocket ship!” he adds excitedly, snaking an arm around my waist. 

That’s when I start to notice the hissing sound coming from beneath the trash can, growing progressively louder. 

“On second thought, fuck it,” Dylan says, changing his mind. “Hand her over, Reb. Stop bogarting that shit.” 

Eric takes another quick drag then passes it to his friend, that’s when the trash can starts to shake, just a little at first but then a lot more violently. “Lucy looks like she’s about to shit her pants,” Dylan comments, smiling as two long thin fingers bring the joint up to his lips. 

“Shut up, Dylan, I’m just a little high and I wasn’t expecting-.” 

An involuntary scream escapes me as the trash can suddenly shoots up into the air, taking off whistling with an incredible speed, heading upward, flying far above our heads until it grows smaller and smaller, harder and harder to see, squinting upward in the darkness. 

“Someone get Lucy a change of pants,” Dylan laughs, exhaling a cloud of smoke. 

“Now that was fucking cool,” Eric grins, staring up at the sky. “Did you see the range on that thing? Goddamn!” 

The unlucky trash can falls back down to the earth moments later with a loud whistle that pierces the otherwise quiet night air. 

Much to Eric and Dylan’s amusement, I bury my face in Eric’s chest like a coward as it comes hurtling downward, landing with an impressive bang and a loud metallic scraping sound, colliding with the ground below. 

“What is it with you and blowing shit up?” I mutter the words into the material of Eric’s coat as he laughs at me, running a hand up and down my back reassuringly. “You know me, Lucy,” I look up to see him smirking. “I love a good bang.” 

“And on that disgusting note,” Dylan says. “I think I’ll say my goodbyes for the night.” 

“Alright, man,” Eric nods his head at him before looking back at me. “I’m gonna stay here and soothe the big crybaby for a while before we take off but I’ll see you at school tomorrow.” I slap him in the arm for the comment but his smile only grows. 

“Fuck,” Dylan takes a final drag before passing the joint my way again. “Thanks for reminding me. Another day in that Godforsaken shithole, I can’t wait.”

“We should probably get out of here anyway, guys. With the noise of that thing someone’s bound to have heard it. The last thing any of us needs is the cops showing up right now.”

“How fucking funny would it be if Lucy’s Dad showed up?” Dylan laughs. “Imagine he had to arrest his own kid.”

“That would not be fucking funny, Dylan. Not in the slightest.”

“It would be kind of funny, Lucy,” Eric smiles. “You gotta admit, I mean, how ironic would it be if he showed up and had to arrest his own daughter?” 

“Why would I be getting arrested? I just stopped in for a pizza on my way home when you two forced me to come around back and smoke a funny tasting cigarette with you.”

“And I’ll tell him that you dragged Dylan and I out here, kicking and screaming cause you were looking for a threesome!” 

The three of us head back towards the parking lot. “Hey, can you stick around for a few minutes after he leaves?” Eric leans in and whispers as the three of us walk around front. Looking at him, I’m barely able to make out his face now in the darkness. I nod my head, a small movement I’m not even sure he can see but he does and gives my hand a little squeeze in response. 

Stood in the parking lot, Dylan rests a hand on top of his car door as he bids us goodnight. “Lucy, as always, it’s been a pleasure. Reb, as always, it’s been... an experience. See you guys tomorrow.” 

Eric and I watch as the BMW starts up and pulls out of the spot before driving out of the parking lot entirely. He takes my hand again as we watch the car disappear off down the street. 

“Come on,” he says quietly. “Let’s go sit in my car.” 

“Eric, if you think you’re getting laid tonight, you’re crazy. My Dad will kill me if I get home too late.” 

“I’m more than a walking, talking hard on, you know. I do have thoughts and feelings and shit. How dare you just assume I’m after sex?” 

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed you just wanted sex.” 

“Well,” his lips curl up into a smirk. “I obviously wouldn’t say no if you were up for it...”

“I fucking knew that’s all you were after!” 

“No, no, no!” he laughingly insists. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d love nothing more than to fuck your damn brains out, of course, but I’d be happy to settle for just... kissing you for a while. Is that alright?” 

“Just kissing?” I ask skeptically. “That’s all you’re after?” 

“Just kissing,” he promises, leaning in to brush his nose against mine again. “That’s all I want. A little more time with you before you have to go. Just kissing. No matter how much you might beg me to keep going.”

It isn’t long before I find myself sat on the bonnet of his car, legs wrapped around him, stars shining down upon us, mouths meeting over and over and over again. 

“Come on, let’s get in the car already,” he murmurs against my lips. “Preferably before I lose a damn ball to frostbite...” 

Cigarettes in hand, we sit in Eric’s car, listening to the radio. 

‘I keep account of my hits and my misses. The bottle makes the final call. Fuel me with some of your kisses. Turn towards the weeping wall...’ 

“So, are you gonna tell me how you found out about my site now?” 

“Nope.” I shake my head, flicking the ash from my cigarette out the small gap at the top of the window. “I can’t reveal my sources, I’m afraid.”

“They’re the one that’s gonna be afraid when I find out who they are,” he darkly assures me, bringing his own cigarette back up to his lips. “You know what they say, snitches end up in ditches.” 

“Yeah, literally nobody says that, but that very sentiment is exactly why I’m not telling you who it was. Forget about who told me. How about telling me why you wrote all that shit in the first place?” 

“My innermost thoughts and feelings are shit, huh?” 

“No, of course not, but I don’t honestly believe those are your innermost thoughts and feelings.” I take a long, deep drag then exhale slowly, watching the smoke drift up towards the ceiling of the car while Eric sits quietly next to me. “That’s you showing off, that’s you announcing to the world how big your dick is.”

“Oh, you think so, huh?” 

“I do.” 

“Well, you’re wrong,” he tells me simply, turning to stare out the windscreen at the now deserted parking lot we find ourselves sat in. “Make no mistake about it, Lucy, I hate the fucking world.” 

“God, you’re so dramatic,” I sigh, slumping back in my chair. “It’s going to suck for me having to run away with a big sourpuss like you...” 

“Well, we can always forget the idea,” Eric laughs. “As much of a sourpuss as I allegedly am, I won’t be mad if you wanna back out.” 

“Not on your life, Harris. Besides, I’ve already packed up most of my shit. You can’t bail on me now.” 

“Oh Lucy,” Eric sighs, hanging his head. 

“Oh Eric,” I sigh back. 

Looking up at me, a slow smile spreads across his face. “You want to paint pretty pictures and raise babies. I want to watch the world crumble and burn.” Reaching over, he takes my hand in his. “But I think maybe we can find a compromise, somewhere in the middle.” 

“Have you thought about where we’re going to go at all?” 

“I’d love to head down to South America for a couple of months. I can just picture it now, you and I sitting on a beautiful beach in Mexico with me rubbing sand tan lotion all over you.” 

“Mexico sounds good. I don’t think my passport is up to date though, I’m not sure I’d be able to cross the border.” 

“Well, that’s my plan of us starting our own emu farm in South America shot to shit, now isn’t it?” Eric takes a final drag then tosses the butt out the window, smoke billowing from his lips. 

“I’m sorry about Scott and his friends earlier tonight. They shouldn’t have done that.” 

“No,” he agrees. “They shouldn’t have, but it’s not your fault they’re assholes.”

“What was that Dylan was saying about a reckoning coming for them?” I ask. “That was a little weird.” 

“Let’s just say, we had an idea for a little senior prank, Dylan and I. One that would have... made an impact on Snot Evans and his buddies. It’s kind of a shame we’re not going to get to do it. I know Dylan was really looking forward to it. I was too, to be honest. I feel kinda bad for bailing on him.” 

“I’m sure he’ll get over it. What kind of prank was it?” 

Eric stares at me blankly for a moment then leans over and opens the glove compartment. He reaches a hand in, pulling out his very realistic looking BB gun. Falling back into his chair, he brings the BB gun up to his face. Eyes locked with mine, he plants a quick kiss on the barrel. 

“You were gonna shoot them in the ass with a BB gun?”

“Like you did to me?” he laughs, tossing the BB gun from one hand to the other. “No, that wasn’t exactly my intention.” 

“Then what was it?” I ask, growing slightly concerned. 

Eric smiles then pretends to fire it a couple of times, making the sound effects as he does. He brings it back up to his face again, staring at me as he puts the end of it in his mouth. 

If it hadn’t been for the discovery of his website this morning, I would have written it off as a joke entirely. Eric’s sense of humor is slightly twisted at the best of times and it is just a BB gun after all, but still, I can’t help the small chill that rises up my spine, watching him wrap his lips around the barrel.

“That’s not fucking funny, Eric!” 

He takes the BB gun out of his mouth, grinning at me in a way that suddenly renders me incredibly uncomfortable. 

Sat in the darkness of his car, he looks almost like another person, almost sinister. “What would you do if this was a real gun?” he asks, raising an arm to point the BB gun at me. “What would you do if I pointed it at you and told you to beg for your life?” 

“Well, I’d seriously have to consider breaking up with you for starters,” I joke, wishing he would just drop it, wishing he would just put the damn BB gun back in the glove compartment already. Eric can read me like a book and I’m painfully aware of the fact that he knows just how much this conversation has begun to unsettle me. 

“I’m serious, Lucy. What would you do?”

Internally, I’m conflicted, torn between genuine concern and the idea that I’m being ridiculous. “Karate chop the gun out of your hand probably then I’d pistol-whip your ass into oblivion.” 

“Yeah, right,” he laughs, easing the heavy tension in the air a little. “Sure you would.” 

“Why are you pointing a gun at me in the first place in this scenario?” 

“Maybe I wanna kidnap you for real. Tie you up and keep you locked down in my basement. Hell, it’d save me the bother of having to go on the run with your ass. And that way I wouldn’t have to worry about assholes like Brooks and Evans sniffing around what isn’t theirs.”

“Wow, possessive much?” 

“Just being cautious. There’s nothing wrong with that. I’m really glad you’re not mad at me, Lucy, because I’m in this for the long haul, you know. Check this out, if you don’t believe me.” Eric peels his coat off before rolling up the sleeve of his shirt, revealing the thick black lettering on his upper arm that says; ‘Lucy Goosey.’ 

“Oh My God!” I gasp. “That’s not real!”

“Like hell it isn’t! I didn’t sit in a tattoo shop for a good half hour, getting stabbed with needles over and over again for you to say this shit isn’t real!” I expect him to break quickly, to immediately start laughing, but he doesn’t. 

“Eric, please tell me that’s not real...”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Lucy.”

“Holy shit! You actually had Lucy Goosey tattooed on you? What the hell, Eric?!” 

“That’s your official title, isn’t it?” 

“You’ve got a fucking screw loose!” I laugh, shaking my head incredulously. 

“The fact that you used both the words fucking and screw in the same sentence tells me you got into my car for a different reason than you let on...” 

“Wait, is that sharpie?”

“No,” he scoffs. “How dare you even accuse me of-.” 

I lick my thumb and rub it down the length of his upper arm, slightly smudging his “tattoo.” 

“You drew that on yourself! I knew you were full of shit! God, you’re such a fucking liar sometimes!” 

“Hey, I would have gotten it done for real but you need a parent’s permission if you’re under eighteen!” 

“How convenient for you!” 

“If it was real, I would have gotten laid tonight, wouldn’t I?” 

“No,” I lie. 

“Yeah, I would have,” he laughs. “Oh, that reminds me, I forgot to tell you, but I bought a fuck-tonne of condoms for our trip.”

“Was that high on the priority list?”

“Of course. I know how worried you were that we wouldn’t find enough for me to keep that raging libido of yours satisfied. Now you can rest easy.” 

I roll my eyes and he starts to laugh, taking my hand in his as we sit in the darkness of his car, listening to hard music playing softly. 

“The world’s our oyster, baby,” he grins. “Our fate is in our hands. Twenty-four hours from now, this place is gonna be nothing but a bad memory.” 

He lifts my hand up to his face, kisses the back of it then squeezes it again. “Twenty-four hours from now, our lives are gonna change forever. You excited, Lucy Goosey?” 

“Oh Eric,” I sigh, feeling myself start to smile again as I lean across the car towards him. “Abso-fucking-lutely.” 

I get home just before eleven, falling into bed not long after. Feeling drained both mentally and physically, it isn’t long until sleep claims me. It isn’t a peaceful sleep however and I end up tossing and turning in bed for most of the night. 

Around dawn, I wake from a terrible nightmare; shooting up in bed, drenched in sweat, heart beating erratically in my chest. “It was just a dream,” I assure myself, pulling my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them, rocking back and fourth slightly on the bed. “Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream.” Get a fucking grip, Lucy, I mentally berate myself, it was just a damn BB gun after all. You know he was only screwing around. 

As soon as my first class ends, I head to the other side of the building in search of Eric. It doesn’t take long to find him, back to me, fumbling around with the contents of his locker. I sneak up behind him and wrap my hands around his eyes. “Guess-.” 

Before I can get the words out, Eric swings his arm back, sending me flying towards the ground. My backpack cushions my fall as I lay there, slightly stunned on the floor. “Oww,” I groan. “Good morning to you too.” 

Eric is horrified, eyes wider than dinner plates, mouth opening and closing, opening and closing, like a fish, with no words coming out.

“Oh My God!” he finally says. “Fuck! I am so sorry, Lucy! I didn’t realize it was you!” Eric helps me up, apologizing profusely. “I thought it was somebody fucking with me and I-.” 

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m fine,” I assure him, taking his hand and clambering to my feet. “I mean, I’m not exactly happy you threw me to the ground, but I guess I shouldn’t have snuck up on you.” 

“Lucy, I swear, I didn’t mean to-.”

“What the hell was that, man?!” Ryan, a football player and a guy I went to middle school with loudly demands, storming over towards us. “Did you just fucking push her, dude?!” 

“No, it wasn’t like that!” Eric insists, now looking incredibly pained as he attempts to explain himself. “I didn’t mean to.” 

“Wow, just wait until Evans hears about this. Now he has a legitimate reason to kick your ass. Oh, he is gonna love this!” 

“Will he, Ryan?!” I snap, having already grown extremely tired with the conversation. “Will he really?! That’s great! Why don’t you run along right now and tell your little boyfriend all about it?!” 

“Why are you being such a bitch? I’m only trying to look out for you! Jesus!” 

“Yeah, well.... fuck you and fuck Jesus!” I shout back, earning startled looks from a group of freshman girls walking by. 

Ryan looks back and fourth between Eric and I with a face like he’s sniffing an expired carton of milk. “Fucking freaks, man, the both of you.” When neither of us retaliate, he turns around and walks off, presumably to go lie to Scott about Eric pushing me in an attempt to rile him up.

“Fuck Jesus, huh?” 

“I didn’t mean to say that, it just slipped out,” I explain, a little embarrassed over my sudden outburst. 

“No, you’re right, Lucy,” he laughs. “Fuck Jesus. His Dad is the one that created assholes like Ryan and Scott in the first place. Allegedly. I can’t tell you how glad I am that today is the last day I’m ever gonna have to see any of those roided up retards again.” 

“You say that now, but just wait and see, a few weeks from now, you’ll be writing them all postcards and begging them to come visit.”

“Oh, yeah, we’ll definitely all be keeping in touch,” he sarcastically agrees. “For sure.” 

“I have a little present for you,” I tell him, unable to help from smiling as I unzip my backpack, pulling out the half empty bottle I carefully prepared earlier that morning. 

“Shampoo?” Eric frowns, confused. “Are you trying to say I need to shower more or something?”

“No,” I assure him, fighting a smile. “This is retribution. This is for Scott.”

That only seems to confuse him further. “Wait, you mean to tell me that your grand plan for revenge involves washing his hair? Woah, calm down there, Caligula! Don’t you think that’s a little harsh?” 

“It’s not shampoo, idiot!” 

“Oh God, please tell me it’s corrosive acid,” Eric pleads, bringing his hands together in prayer. 

“You have Gym with him later today, don’t you?” 

“Why, yes, Lucy,” he grins, nodding his head understandingly. “Yes, I do.” 

Our last day at school proves far more entertaining than a typical one, curtesy of the special concoction of shampoo and hair removal cream that Scott unknowingly applied to his hair after Gym. 

Choking on a mouthful of smoke in the passenger seat of Eric’s car, I bang my fist against my chest a few times. 

“Are you okay?” Eric asks, but he can barely stop laughing long enough to ask the question. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” I tell him, struggling to get the words out between bursts of uncontrollable laughter. “Unlike Scott’s hair.” 

“What fucking hair?” Eric replies, wiping a tear from his eye with the back of his hand. 

“He reminds me of Dr. Evil now. His head is kind of shaped like a peanut too, don’t you think?” 

“Stop it,” Eric begs, still cracking up in the seat next to me as he drives. “Can we please forget about that bald fuck for a couple of minutes? Just until I get you home. I’m gonna end up wrapping this damn car around a tree like a pretzel if I keep laughing like this!”

But the two of us are still laughing about it as he pulls up outside my house, albeit not as hysterically. 

“Thanks for that, Lucy. Best present ever. Dylan and I are gonna go hang out for a while, but I’ll be back for you in a couple of hours. Make sure you’re ready to go when I get there, alright?” Eric takes my face in his hands, pressing his lips to mine. 

“I will be,” I tell him, murmuring the words against his mouth before unwillingly turning to climb out of the car. “Hurry back to me, okay?” 

The television in the living room is playing loudly when I walk into the house, stopping to take my shoes off and hang my coat up in the hall. 

‘It was then that law enforcement arrived on the scene and what they found there would turn even the most hardened police officer’s stomach. Inside the fridge, was the severed head of one of Dahmer’s victims....’ 

Poking my head around the living room door, I find exactly what I expect to find, Dad lounging in his favorite overstuffed recliner in front of the TV watching one of our beloved true crime shows. 

“Hi Dad.” 

He glances over at me, looking back at the T.V. almost immediately. “Hello.”

“Want some company?” I ask, hoping to break the tension and mend some fences before I take off later tonight. 

“Not particularly, no,” he says flatly, eyes glued to the television. 

“Suit yourself, you sour old fuck,” I mutter, walking out into the hall. 

“What was that, young lady?!” 

“I said suit yourself, Dad!” I yell, taking the stairs two at a time as I head up towards my room. I’m too annoyed to care about the fact that we’ll be leaving things on bad terms, at least right now. I know that’ll come later. 

Laying on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, I listen to Rammstein and think about the future, all kinds of potential futures, each more wonderful and exhilarating than the last. I hear Dad’s heavy footsteps on the stairs as he leaves again for the evening, off to pull another all nighter down at the station. Not long after, it’s time for me to go as well. Bags packed and ready to go, concealed beneath some large bushes in the front garden, I head downstairs. 

It’s a strange feeling knowing that this will probably be the last time I’m in this house, at least for a long time. Unlike Eric, who’s had to call a lot of places home throughout his life, this place and this house are all I’ve ever known. 

Reaching the landing, I realize the TV is still on in the living room. Dad must have forgotten to turn it off before he left. “Senile old fuck,” I mutter, walking back into the living room, still a little annoyed over the fact that he didn’t take the olive branch I tried to extend earlier. 

I walk in to find Mom sat in Dad’s chair, holding a glass of wine. She looks up when she notices me standing there. “You leaving now, cupcake?” 

“Yep. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mom, okay?” 

“Okay, tell Sarah your Dad and I love her, alright?”

“Will do.”

Mom smiles at me then brings the glass back up to her lips, turning around to face the TV again. 

“Goodnight Mom.” I feel slightly pathetic over the fact that I suddenly want nothing more than for her to reassure me that they love me too. Instead she says; 

“Night Lucy,” eyes still fixed to the screen in front of her. 

After retrieving my bags from the bushes, I make my way down the street, headed towards the park by my house. I didn’t think I packed that much, but I still find myself huffing and puffing a little under the weight of the heavy duffel bag. 

I arrive first. After waiting around for a few minutes, I decide to sit down on a swing, leaving my bags down on the ground by my feet and lighting up a cigarette. The night is bitterly cold, yet again and the chains of the swing feel almost like ice against my bare fingers at first. It becomes a little more bearable as I start to swing, flying back and fourth through the cold night air, a burst of loud, spontaneous laughter falling from my lips. 

After a minute or so, I slow my pace a bit, finishing my cigarette as I look around the park, almost willing him to appear. He should be here by now. Glancing down at my wristwatch, I sigh heavily, making a mental reminder to bitch at him later for leaving me waiting around in the cold for him. 

I light up another cigarette then another then another. Minutes turn to hours. And Eric never shows up at all. 

I walk home two hours later, crying so hard along the way that at times I can barely catch my breath. The bags are promptly hidden in the bushes again, as to avoid questions, before I head inside, wiping my damp eyes on the sleeves of my coat. 

Mom should be all liquored up and ready for bed by now, that’s what I anticipate when I walk in at least. That isn’t what I find, instead she’s stood in the hallway in her dressing gown, phone clutched to her ear. “Yes, David, I understand. She just walked in actually, hold on,” Mom places the receiver of the phone against her chest. “What are you doing home so early?” 

“I think I’m coming down with something, so I asked Sarah to drive me home,” I lie, hoping she’s not sober enough to notice that I’ve been crying hysterically for the past hour or so. “Why are you and Dad talking about me on the phone?” 

“We weren’t taking about you. We were taking about Eric.” 

“What about him?” I ask cautiously, beginning to unbutton my coat. “Why were you taking about him?” 

“Because, Lucy,” Mom says, slightly exasperated as she clasps the phone against her chest. “Kathy and Wayne just picked him up from the station. Your little juvenile delinquent boyfriend was arrested earlier tonight.” 

As soon as she says it, the overwhelming feelings of sadness and abandonment felt along the painful walk home are temporarily forgotten, replaced by an intense and immediate wave of panic. I knew we should never have taken Dad’s gun and I knew we should never have held up that store, but I went along with it anyway. We were idiots to think we’d actually gotten away with it. 

I feel a little dizzy, swaying slightly as I stand there on the rug by the front door, then the room begins to spin. 

“Hold on a second, David,” I hear Mom say, but she sounds like she’s a thousand miles away. “Lucy doesn’t look too good.” 

I try to say something, but find myself too disoriented now to know whether or not I actually got the words out. 

My knees buckle beneath me. 

I’m vaguely aware of Mom shouting my name before everything goes black.


	18. The Same Deep Water As You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being WAY too long, so I split it into two parts, the second one should hopefully be up by the end of the week. Also, sorry this took so long. I’ve been working like crazy and have been depressed as hell the past few weeks (what else is new?) Anyway, here’s more of whatever the fuck. Hope you’re out there somewhere thriving and jiving. 🤟🏻

Weeks later and far past their prime - the sunflowers Eric gave me still sit in a vase atop my desk. Saturday sees me rising at noon, feeling just like those sunflowers; once vibrant and alive with color, now tired and wilted with half their petals gone. Robert Smith’s melancholic refrain is my only comfort in life as I lay in bed for half the day - curtains drawn, stewing in sadness with the Cure providing a soundtrack for my misery.

I tried calling Eric several times last night, on the verge of hysterics as I fruitlessly pleaded with both of his parents to let me speak to him. They were embarrassed and pissed as hell about the whole situation, that much was clear - despite how cordial they were on the phone and consequently all my efforts to speak to him directly were in vain.

Dad had been down at the station when him and Dylan were brought in, only worsening the situation - and arriving home a few hours later he practically had to to pry the phone from my fingers before sitting me down on the couch and explaining what had happened.

Of course a small part of me was relived that it wasn’t about the convenience store robbery as I’d initially feared, but the feeling of relief was short lived - quickly overwhelmed by the waves of intense disappointment and crippling sadness that followed. Last night Eric and I were supposed to speed off into the sunset together, finally putting what he’d lovingly dubbed “this Godforsaken shithole” in our rear view mirror for good.

This was our chance. Our opportunity to escape and finally embark on that grand, wild, romantic adventure. Hitting the open road, free and in love with just a few hundred bucks to our name and no particular destination in mind. Instead, Eric got arrested and I staying up until dawn, sobbing until the tears refused to fall anymore - and now I can’t help feeling incredibly cheated by fate.

Dad is moving to New York in two weeks and as far as him and Mom are concerned, I’m going too. I haven’t even bothered to debate the move for weeks, thinking that by the time the date rolled around Eric and I would already be long gone - unfortunately however, that is not the case.

This was our chance, our only chance and last night Eric fucking blew it. Intentionally or not, he tore it to shreds and scattered the remnants around like confetti. And now, I can’t even speak to him. Not until Monday morning at school at least - a painful thirty eight hours away.

Considering the fact that his parents have now had time to sleep on it, I finally manage to convince myself to climb out of bed and try calling again. Maybe now they’ve calmed down a little and are willing to see reason.

Tiptoeing down the stairs, I’m careful to avoid the steps I know will creak, not wanting to alert my Father - wherever he is in the house - that I’m calling again.

The phone rings, once, twice, three times, before it’s finally picked up. “Harris residence, Wayne speaking.”

“Hello Mr. Harris,” I do my best to adopt a chipper tone, despite how shitty I feel. “It’s Lucy again.”

Eric’s father sighs deeply into the phone.

“Hello again, Lucy.”

“I was just wondering-.”

“Yes,” he quickly cuts me off. “I know very well what you were just wondering, but like I told you SEVERAL times last night, Eric is grounded.”

“Until when?” I practically whine into the receiver.

“Until further notice.”

“Can you do that?”

“Excuse me?” Mr. Harris sounds taken aback by the question. “I am Eric’s Father and I can do as I-.”

“I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful, Mr. Harris,” I assure him - coiling the telephone cord round my finger. “Truly I wasn’t, I just mean... even people in prison get to talk on the phone and have a release date to look forward to, you know?”

“I....” There’s silence on the other line for several seconds before Mr. Harris finally speaks - refusing to even acknowledge what I consider to be my ironclad reasoning. “I’m going to hang up now, Lucy. Please tell your parents that Kathy and I send our regards. You have a nice day now, alright?”

“Wait! Just one more thing!”

“What now?” Mr. Harris ask gruffly. I can’t even blame him for being impatient, considering the way I relentlessly hounded his phone line the night before.

“I know you don’t want Eric to use the phone, but I really need to talk to him, just for like five minutes, please, Mr. Harris. It’s super important.”

“If it’s that urgent, I can relay the message,” he replies. “What’s it about?”

“Can’t I just tell him myself?”

“What do you think?” he asks sharply.

“Yes?”

“Goodbye Lucy.”

The line goes dead.

“Damn it!” Resisting the urge to slam the phone into the wall in frustration, I force myself to take a few deep breaths instead.

“Eric isn’t going to be the only one grounded if you keep bothering the Harris’, Lucy!” Looking up, I see my Father’s face peering down at me from above the banister of the stairs.

“Oh fuck off. Fuck off. Fuck off,” I mutter, clenching my eyes shut - gripping the phone so tightly I’m surprised it doesn’t break in my hand. Does he think I’m enjoying this? Does he think I get some sort of weird perverse kick out of annoying the everliving shit out of Eric’s parents or something?

I hate myself for my desperation, for this bone deep urgency that’s consumed me since the night previous - subsequently molding my every thought and impulse since - but I need to talk to Eric. It isn’t even a matter of simply wanting to. I need to speak to him. I need it like a drowning man needs air, like a starving man needs food, like the heart that beats in my chest - hanging heavier now than ever before.

Dad’s footsteps echo loudly as he bounds down the stairs and turns the corner to face me, donning a serious frown of disapproval. “I know you want to talk to him, but this isn’t the way to go about it, kiddo...”

Maybe I should just throw the phone at him instead. It was one of his buddies that ruined mine and Eric’s lives after all... Horrified by the sudden and completely unwarranted thought of assaulting my Father, I put the phone down with a shudder.

“And besides, you two can always see each other at school on Monday, can’t you?”

“I guess,” I mutter dejectedly, staring down at the ground, wondering just how long he intends to blather on before I can go back up to my room. “If his captors are even letting him go to school that is...”

“I know you might not want to hear this, but Eric committed a serious crime last night,” Dad tells me sternly.

I bite down on my lower lip, suppressing the overwhelming urge to say something I shouldn’t.

“His folks are right to punish him for it.”

“Maybe he was framed,” I suggest, knowing damn well it isn’t likely.

“Oh don’t be so ridiculous!”

“Why is that ridiculous?” I snap, irritated that he’s not even willing to entertain the idea, despite how stupid it is. “Were you there?”

“I was there when they were brought down to the station, but it didn’t even take that long to get a confession out of them. They were questioned on the scene and folded like a cheap pair of suits!”

“I still think you might have the wrong guys, Dad,” I tell him. “It really doesn’t sound like something they would do and I’ve never known Eric to not respect other people’s properly...”

Besides setting Laura’s car on fire, breaking Brooks’ windshield and all the houses he vandalized during his “Rebel Missions,” but Dad doesn’t know about any of that - as far as he’s concerned, Eric was a damn choirboy up until last night’s unpleasantness with the van.

“Eric always struck me as being a good kid,” Dad admits. “I’ve never thought of him as a troublemaker, but something tells me that Klebold boy is a bad influence on him...”

“Dylan’s a good kid, too,” I assure him. “The guy’s practically a waking, talking teddy bear for crying out loud. You know they probably didn’t even mean to break that window.”

“Oh sure, they probably didn’t mean to load all of that stolen equipment into the back of Eric’s car either,” Dad replies, voice dripping in sarcasm. “I wasn’t born yesterday, you know!”

“The amount of wrinkles on your face could have told me that...”

“Careful, Lucy!” he warns me, folding his arms across his chest.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I just... I don’t know why your friend had to blow this so out of proportion. Eric and Dylan were probably just screwing around.”

“Just screwing around?” he scoffs disbelievingly. “Breaking and entering is not screwing around, Lucy.”

“I bet this entire thing was just some big misunderstanding,” I continue undeterred. “And now their lives are going to be ruined because of it,” voice quivering, I look up to the ceiling, forcing back the tears now welling in my eyes - cursing myself for being so weak and pathetic.

“Both of them readily admitted to breaking the window and stealing that stuff,” Dad is quick to remind me. “I wouldn’t be so upset if I were you though, the two of them are still minors and it’s a first offense. They might get off with probation and community service if they’re lucky.”

That makes me a little more hopeful.

“If you ask me though, I think the two of them should be trialed as adults. I know it sounds a little harsh, boys will be boys and all that, but it sets a bad precedent for other potential offenders when they see guys like Eric and Dylan getting off so light. I mean they committed a felony for God’s sake, let’s not treat them like they’re still playing with crayons!”

I don’t say anything because whatever came out wouldn’t be something he wanted to hear anyway.

“Why don’t you and I go do something fun to take your mind off things?” he offers. “I’ve got the afternoon off and you don’t have school. Why don’t we go to the movies or something?”

“No thanks,” I reply - wondering how in the hell I managed to come to dislike Dad more than Mom in the course of a single morning.

“Busy day of moping around your room already planned out?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. That’s exactly what I intend to do, if you’ll excuse me.”

Dad starts to laugh and I don’t even bother to look at him again before marching past, headed for the stairs - taking them two at a time up to my room.

“Suit yourself, sourpuss!”

I turn the radio up then climb back into bed, pulling the covers over me.

‘ _Kiss me goodbye. Pushing out before I sleep. Can’t you see I try? Swimming the same deep water as you is hard. The shallow drowned lose less than we, you breath. The strangest twist upon your lips. And we shall be together…’_

Burying my face in the pillow, I let out a scream of frustration - but seconds later find myself sobbing into it, curled up in the fetal position beneath the covers.

‘ _Kiss me goodbye. Bow your head and join with me. And face pushed deep, reflections meet. The strangest twist upon your lips. And disappear, the ripples clear. And laughing, break against your feet. And laughing, break the mirror sweet. So we shall be together. So we shall be together...’_

I’ve never felt sadness and frustration like this before in all my life and it’s a monumental struggle to try and contain it all within me. The very weight of it is crushing - driving me to the brink of sanity itself. And I feel alone. Utterly, completely, entirely alone.

The rest of the day consists of much of the same; alternating between bugging Eric’s parents, listening to sad music and sleeping - until midnight rolls around and I simply can’t take it anymore.

Sat on the roof of my house, cigarette in hand, I stare up at a sky awash with a sea of stars - thinking of him, imagining where we’d be and what we’d be doing right now if he’d actually showed up last night. I’ll see him in thirty hours or so, I remind myself, but that might as well be an eternity away as far as I’m concerned.

Knowing I won’t sleep a wink between now and then anyway - knowing I’ll lay there in bed, consumed with thoughts of him until morning regardless, I decide to give in and just go see him in person.

I’m careful to be as quiet as is humanly possible closing the bedroom window behind me - even if it is just Mom here now and she’s passed out in the next room. After climbing down onto the smaller wall that runs along the side of my house, I jump down into the garden - boots landing right in the middle of a patch of azaleas.

Retrieving Mom’s car keys from the pocket of my bathrobe, I shiver slightly against the cold night air - already wishing I’d worn something warmer as I make my way to the garage.

I know I shouldn’t be doing this, but then again, I shouldn’t even still be here at all. I should be hundreds of miles away - hanging out in a dingy motel room and eating shitty take-out food with Eric. I should be speeding down the highway, holding his hand while KMFDM blares from the speakers at a near deafening volume. Instead here we remain in dreary old Littleton, trapped in the endless monotony of this rat race we call life - forbidden from even speaking to one another.

Sliding the key into the ignition, I only now realize how hard my heart is thumping in my chest. I have no idea what time Dad will be home - it could be tomorrow afternoon, it could be five minutes from now. One thing I do know is that he’d kill me for taking the car and leaving the house at this hour, especially if he knew where I was going. Sitting there in the driver’s seat, belt buckled and ready to go, I contemplate whether or not I should actually do this, but then I remember the fact that it’ll be another thirty something hours if I don’t.

Pulling out of the driveway, I feel like I’m about to have a heart attack. Looking in the rear view mirror as I drive down the street, I half expect to see Dad’s car pulling up or Mom’s drunken form darting across the lawn after me. Thankfully, I see neither.

The potential consequences of my actions aren’t lost on me, but I’m too compelled by the overpowering desire to commit them to truly care. I feel as though I’m unraveling at the seams and I want to talk him. I need to. Body rigid with tension, I turn the radio on and settle back in my seat - making my best attempt at relaxing as I drive the short distance to Eric’s house.

‘ _Oh baby, baby. How was I supposed to know, that something wasn’t right, yeah? Oh pretty baby. I shouldn’t have let you go...’_

“Seriously, Mom?” Rolling my eyes at my Mother’s lack of musical taste, I realize I’ll have to pull over and change the cassette tape before I get to Eric’s. There’s no way I’m listening to this garbage, no matter how short the drive, I tell myself, but I’m still listening to it, tapping my fingers up and down on the wheel when I park down the street from his house.

Wanting to be as quiet and stealth like as possible, I opt to take my boots off, carrying them with me as I walk along the gravel footpath leading into the Harris’ backyard. It occurs to me just how ludicrous I look right now - clad in my dressing gown and pajama bottoms, boots in hand, tiptoeing across someone’s garden in the middle of the night - and I silently pray to whatever higher power might exist that nobody sees me. Turning the corner, I see light coming from the small rectangular window at the bottom of the house, Eric’s window.

I’m going to let him fucking have it now. I’m going to tell him what a huge idiot he is for doing something so impulsive and reckless. I’m going to tell him how much I hate him for jeopardizing our plan and ruining everything.

Kneeling down on the grass by the window, I peer in and immediately see Eric laying on his bed, biting his lip, eyes closed - hand rising and falling rapidly beneath the blanket. Feeling my jaw drop, I’m compelled to stare for a moment or two before looking away, ashamed, feeling no better than a peeping Tom - but then I start to laugh and feel the need to lean down and get another peek.

This time Eric’s hand has stopped moving and he’s staring up at the ceiling with a small satisfied smile on his face. What the fuck are you smiling about at a time like this? I felt like I was dying when you never showed up last night. I felt like the world itself was coming to an end. And you promised. You fucking promised you’d be there and you weren’t.

Irritated, I gently rap my knuckles on the window a few times, but I can’t help but smile as Eric shoots up in bed - looking incredibly startled as the blanket falls down from his bare chest. I knock again and he starts glancing around the room, slowly climbing out of bed and pulling his boxers back up.

I knock a little more loudly, just once to catch his attention then Eric looks over towards the window, scowling so deeply I have to clamp a hand over my mouth to stop myself laughing too loudly.

Standing there in just his boxers, his eyes widen, finally realizing that there’s someone standing there. After a second or two, he seems to process that it’s me. Then a slow dreamy grin stretches across his lips and he walks over towards the window, slowly shaking his head back and fourth.

Our eyes meet as he pauses in front of me on the other side of the glass and the grin widens - causing me to grin right back.

Eric quickly glances over his shoulder as if he expects one of his parents to have suddenly appeared down in the basement with him - then turns back around and lifts the latch on the window, pushing it open. “You better not be some kind of beautiful mirage, Lucy, or I’m going to be pissed as hell...”

I’d planned to tear him a new asshole as soon as I saw him, but that proves a lot more difficult than anticipated now that we’re actually face to face again.

“What the hell happened last night, Eric?” I blurt out immediately. I try to keep some composure in my voice as I say it - not wanting to reveal how completely and utterly devastated I am, but the sadness and defeat seem to seep out anyway.

“I fucked up, that’s what,” Eric sighs heavily, hanging his head. “Big time.”

“I felt like I was dying when you never showed up, you know,” I tell him, feeling far more exposed than I’d anticipated. “I could actually feel my heart breaking on the walk home...”

“I am so fucking sorry, Lucy.” Eric says the words slowly, deliberately - voice heavy with genuine remorse as he looks back up at me - and suddenly it’s a lot harder to be mad at him. “Believe me, I hate myself for letting you down like that. I swear I had every intention of being there...”

“Then why weren’t you?” I ask, voice breaking - embarrassed as I wipe away a hot tear trickling down my cheek with the sleeve of my robe.

“Oh no,” Eric frowns, looking incredibly uncomfortable as well as guilt ridden. “Oh fuck... Please don’t cry, Lucy! I’m sorry! I’m... I’m really, really sorry, alright? Just please don’t fucking cry!”

“I’m not crying,” I lie, just as another tear runs down my face.

“Yeah, you are,” he laughs weakly, making me laugh as well.

I stick my tongue out at him, dabbing at my damp eyes with my sleeve. “Beautiful mirage,” he’d said, yeah right. I look like death warmed up and I know it.

The two of us smile at one another through the open window before Eric turns away again, wiping at his eyes with the palms of his hands. “Jesus, look at me getting all fucking emotional! I’m nearly as bad as you are when you’re on the rag...”

He’s quick to jokingly brush it off, but I’m touched by the depth of his emotion - relieved by the realization that this incident has ripped both of our hearts out and thrown them to the wolves to be devoured, not just mine. He does care.

“What’s my excuse for being a moody bitch the other three weeks out of the month?” I joke - wanting little more in this life than to climb in through his bedroom window and throw my arms around him.

We may have missed our chance, but my heart is lighter simply from knowing that he wanted this just as badly as I did. He didn’t abandon me willingly and I don’t think he ever would. Eric lifts an arm upward, sticking it out the window, reaching over to rest his hand atop mine in the grass. In this moment the idea of having to move across the country - in just two short weeks - over a thousand miles away from him is almost too much to bare.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he whispers. “I was literally just thinking about you...”

“While you were jerking it or before that?”

“Oh God!” I’ve only seen Eric blush a handful of times since I’ve known him and this is one of them. “You saw that?” he groans, burying his face in his hands. “Well, that’s not embarrassing at all....”

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” I laughingly reassure him. “If anything I’m the one who should be embarrassed for creepily watching you through the window.”

“Hey, that’s true... What the hell, Lucy? And to think, you actually have the nerve to call me a pervert!”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Question?” Eric cocks an eyebrow.

“Yeah. About whether you were thinking about me before or during.”

“Both,” he admits with a smile, shrugging his shoulders - cheeks lightly flushed. “What do you think got me so worked up in the first place?”

Now it’s my turn to blush - smiling helplessly as I kneel in the grass by his window.

“Tell me,” Eric chuckles. “Did you enjoy the show at least?”

I have to swallow a lump in my throat before I can reply. “Yes.”

A slow smirk spreads across his face. “Yeah?”

“I might have enjoyed it more if I could have played a more active roll though.”

“Say no more,” he says, promptly pushing the window open the rest of the way. “Climb on in and we can get right to work on a sequel...”

“Yeah, it’s not going to be that easy,” I inform him. “I’m not here for a booty call, thank you very much.”

“Seriously?” Eric pouts, looking almost comical as he stands there in just his underwear. “No booty at all?”

“Nope. Sorry to disappoint you, but booty is not on the agenda this evening.”

“Oh come on. I only want a little bit of booty, that’s all. Just like... ten to fifteen minutes worth of booty.”

“Yeah, well, we all want things we can’t have, Harris. Such is life.”

“So selfish,” Eric mutters, shaking his head at me. “You’d be the greediest pirate ever, you know, hoarding all that booty for yourself...”

“You’re lucky we’re not pirates or you’d be waking around with a peg-leg and an eyepatch for leaving me waiting around in the cold for two hours last night!” I inform him, fighting the urge to laugh.

“I know,” he nods his head, expression solemn. “I’m awful. I deserve to walk the plank for sure.”

That breaks me, I start to laugh and now all thought of being angry with him is long gone.

“So, are you coming inside, or do you just want to stay out in the yard, watching me through the window like a damn pervert all night?”

“Neither. Go get dressed, idiot.”

“Why am I getting dressed?” he asks, furrowing his brow.

“We’re going for a little drive.”

“You know I’m on house arrest at the moment, right? I don’t think my captors would appreciate me sneaking out in the middle of the night.”

“Does that mean you’re not coming?”

“Oh fuck no, of course I’m coming! Are you kidding me? I’ve been going insane cooped up in this house all day!””

“Yay!” I grin, delightedly clapping my hands together.

Now Eric’s the one rolling his eyes, but he’s smiling too. “How the hell did you ever end up becoming friends with a bunch of bitches like Thunder-cunt and her minions? You’re the biggest dork I’ve ever met in my life.”

“Thank you,” I grin. “The feeling is very much mutual.”

“Just give me five minutes, alright?”

“Alright,” I nod my head, rising to my feet. “I’ll be waiting for you in the car, okay? I’m parked just down the street.”

“Okay... Don’t you dare go anywhere without me!”

Walking back around to the front of Eric’s house, gravel softly crunching beneath my feet - I feel I’ve already begun the process of healing the near lethal wound inflicted on my heart the night before.

Less than five minutes later, I’m sat in the car smoking a cigarette when I spot Eric’s darkened form - lit up by the occasional street light - striding towards me. Backwards baseball cap atop his head, his trench coat hangs open as he walks, revealing a Broncos sweatshirt and jeans underneath.

The passenger door opens. Eric slides in next to me, pulling the door closed behind him with a thud before turning to face me in his chair. “Lucy, I-.”

He starts to speak, but quickly seems to change his mind, opting to lunge across the car towards me instead - seizing my face in his hands and pressing his lips hard against my own. Caught off guard, it takes me a second or two to start kissing him back. As soon as I do, his tongue parts my lips, delving into my mouth while a hand slowly snakes its way up along my inner thigh.

And I keep kissing him, up until that hand parts my robe and attempts to slide down the front of my pajama bottoms. “No, we’re not doing this now,” I shake my head, pulling away from him, however reluctantly. “We need to stop.”

Groaning heavily, Eric falls back into his chair. He turns to look at me and we stare at one another for a few quiet moments, sat there in the darkness of my car - a thousand things we want to say, not enough time to possibly say half of them.

“I can’t believe you’re actually here,” he finally says. “How the hell did you manage to convince your parents to let you... wait, never mind. Let me guess, Dad’s at work and Mom’s in another one of her wine induced comas?”

“Bingo,” I nod - wondering why I’m even surprised that he managed to hit the hit the nail on the head so succinctly.

“Damn it, I’m good,” Eric grins, folding his arms behind his head. “I can’t believe you took the car though. You know your Dad would have a fucking hernia if he knew what you were up to...”

“I know, but I couldn’t wait until Monday,” I admit. “I missed you too much.”

“I’m not surprised. I’d miss me too if I were you. I’m a fucking delight to be around.”

“In what alternate reality is this?” I scoff, buckling my seatbelt.

“Oh shut up, you know you love me,” he rolls his eyes, reaching over to give my shoulder a quick shove. “Thanks for helping me break out of prison though, Lucy Goosey. It’s much appreciated, as are you.”

“I better be,” I tell him, starting the car up, glancing back at his house in the mirror as we take off down the street.

“I really must have a death wish though.”

“Why is that?” I ask as we drive away from his house.

“Sneaking out when my parents are already on the verge of killing me then getting in a car with you driving...”

“Oh fuck you, I’ve gotten a lot better, I’ll have you know!”

“I bet so,” he laughs. “You couldn’t have gotten any worse at least... Hey, you got any smokes on you?”

Gripping the wheel with one hand, I dig into the pocket of my robe with the other - retrieving my cigarettes and tossing them over to his side of the car. “Here, you fucking bum.”

“Oh don’t be like that.” Eric catches the carton easily before sliding two cigarettes out. “Sharing is caring and I appreciate you sharing ‘cause I was dying for one of these.”

“You didn’t even inhale when you smoked back when we first met,” I remind him, smiling at the memory. “Remember?”

“No,” Eric scoffs, lips turning up into a smile as he places two cigarettes between them. “Doesn’t sound like me.”

Shoving a a hand down into the pocket of his jeans, he produces a lighter, promptly lighting up both - Eric might not always have his own smokes, but he never fails to come equipped with his own lighter or matches. “Here,” he says, offering a cigarette over to me - the other dangling from his lips.

I take it from him and bring it up to my mouth for a drag.

“Aren’t you going to say thank you?” he asks, exhaling a cloud of smoke towards the roof of the car.

“For what, my own cigarette?” I glance back over at him.

“I lit it for you, didn’t I? A little gratitude would be nice...”

“I’m already staring to regret this, you know!”

Eric starts to laugh and the sound is such a comforting one - after the pain and uncertainty of the last twenty-four hours - that I have to fight the urge to start crying again as I drive.

“Well, I for one am glad you snuck out to come see me,” he says, exhaling a lazy trail of smoke. “I don’t think I could have waited until Monday either. I was going crazy trapped in that house. Especially not having any way of communicating with you since my parents took my damn computer and won’t let me use the phone...”

Driving along one darkened street after another, I sit there in the driver’s seat, continuing to smoke while I listen to Eric voice his frustration.

“I felt so fucking awful thinking about you waiting around after me and Dylan got busted...”

“Dylan and I, you mean,” I chime in to correct him - just as he did to me last week when I was trying to have a serious conversation.

Not liking a taste of his own medicine, Eric shoots me a quick look of annoyance - making me laugh.

“I’m trying to bare my damn soul to you and you’re laughing!” 

“I’m not, I’m sorry, please keep going!” I reply with a smile - forcing myself to keep my eyes on the road as opposed to on him.

“I just... I kept thinking about how cold you must be. How dark it was and how you were all by yourself. I kept wondering how long you’d be waiting there before you realized I wasn’t coming... and how much you’d probably fucking hate me when you finally did...”

“I could never hate you. I mean, I can’t promise that I’ll always like you,” I tell him, bringing my cigarette back up to my lips. “But I could never hate you.”

Eric takes another drag, smoke billowing from his lips as he tosses the butt from the car window. “What if I did something really bad?”

“Worse than arson, vandalism and breaking and entering?” I ask amusedly. “Because we’ve already pretty much established the fact that none of those are deal breakers for me.”

“Phew! Thank God for that!” Eric lets out a low whistle, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.

We drive along in comfortable silence for a minute or two before he speaks up again and I’m surprised to find him still on the subject. “What if it was something really bad though? Something like... I don’t know, murder for example. Would you still love me if I killed someone?”

“In self-defense?” I ask, glancing back over at him.

“Let’s say no.”

“So, why exactly are you murdering someone in this scenario?”

“In this hypothetical scenario... let’s just say I’m doing it for the hell of it. How would you feel about me then?”

I’m tempted to dismiss the question with a joke and I would - if not for the discovery of his website and some of the comments made by him and Dylan the other night at Blackjack. “Some of the things you say are a little concerning, you know.”

“Like what?” he asks, sounding so genuinely confused it makes me laugh again.

“Well, the other night you asked me what I’d do if you pointed a gun at me and asked me to beg for my life, remember?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “I remember. So what?”

“So, now you’re asking how I’d feel about you if you killed someone for the hell of it.” Looking over at him, I can’t help but ask the question; “Is something going on with you? You seem to be coming out with the darkest shit lately.”

“I fail to see how either of those questions would be concerning,” he replies, brushing it off entirely. “They’re just hypothetical scenarios.”

“Are they though?” I press further, making a determined effort to concentrate on the road as much as him. “What about your website? What about some of that stuff you-.”

“Hey, let’s listen to to some music!” Eric cuts me off, leaning over and turning up the dial on the radio.

‘ _Oh baby, baby. The reason I breath is you. Boy, you got me flying. Oh pretty, baby. There’s nothing that I wouldn’t do...’_

Suddenly mortified, I stare straight ahead at the road, awaiting the onslaught of merciless teasing that’s surely about to commence.

“Oh Jesus! Please tell me you weren’t listening to this shit!” Eric groans, throwing his head back against the headrest. “Holy shit, Lucy, what in the name of Till Lindemann has possessed you?!”

“This is your punishment, Harris,” I tell him, deciding to just own the fact that I was rocking out to generic pop trash on the drive over. “You have to listen to the entire tape with me if you want me to forgive you. You’re going to know every word to every song by the time I’m finished with you.”

“What makes you think I already don’t?” he grins, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Secretly Britney’s biggest fan, huh?”

“I wouldn’t say that, but I must confess...”

“Must confess what?”

“That my loneliness is killing me now-ow-ow!” Eric bursts into song - immediately sending me into near hysterics in the seat next to him. “Don’t you know I still believe?! That you will be here!”

“Eric, please!” I plead between bouts of breathless laughter. “I’m going to crash the fucking car!”

“Just give me a siiiiiiiign!” he continues regardless, beginning to dance in the chair next to me for added effect. “Hit me, baby, one more time!”

“Alright! Alright! You win!” I laugh, hastily ejecting the cassette from the stereo. “We can listen to something else! Just stop singing! God, that was horrifying!”

Eric pops open the glove compartment and starts to fish around inside. “Damn. Slim pickings, I’m afraid,” he mutters - squinting down at the covers of the three tapes in his hands. “It would seem our only options are Britney, Johnny Cash or Dolly Parton.”

“Oh, let’s listen to Dolly Parton. I want to hear 9-5,” I tell him. “I haven’t heard it in forever!” 

“Your wish is my command,” Eric loudly clears his throat before launching into his own rendition “Stumble out of bed and the blood starts pumping. Out on the streets the traffic starts jumping and-.”

“Not your version,” I quickly intervene. “Thank you!”

“Well, excuse the hell out of me for trying to be all romantic and sing to my wife!”

“It might be romantic,” I concede. “If you didn’t sound like a dying animal when you sing.”

“Sorry I can’t have looks, charisma, a huge dick and a great singing voice, Lucy!” he throws his arms up dramatically. “God!”

“Someone thinks highly of himself,” I grin, bringing my cigarette back to my lips for a final drag before tossing it out the window.

“No, not really,” Eric sighs sadly, prompting me to look over at him again.

“Please be kind to me,” he says - shuddering exaggeratedly. “I’m still reeling from the fact that I married a girl who listens to Britney fucking Spears!”

I offer him a deadpan expression in response, provoking more laughter from his side of the car as we drive through the night.

As to be expected, the parking lot is entirely deserted by the time we arrive. Mom’s beat up old car is the only one around. “At least there’s ample parking,” I joke, unbuckling my seatbelt and reaching for the handle of the car door.

Eric does not look amused. “I can’t believe you made me come here,” he mutters, arms folded across his chest. “This is the weekend, you fucking psycho. One of the few precious days we actually get away from this hell hole...”

The school possesses a discernibly eerie quality - immersed in near total darkness as we walk along the grounds - and hand it hand, it doesn’t take long at all to reach the football field.

“He’s not taking you away from me, Lucy,” Eric tells me simply - both of us glancing up at the sky as we walk across a now darkened and deserted football field. “It’s beyond retarded to pull you out of school three months before you graduate anyway. How selfish can that pig you call a father be?”

“Hey! Watch it, Eric!”

“Sorry, Lucy, you know it’s nothing personal,” he assures me, fingers intertwined with my own as we walk along the grass. “I just hate cops in general.”

“You like my Dad though, don’t you?”

“Honestly? I try to get along with him because he’s important to you,” he admits, shrugging his shoulders. “He’s a nice guy and all, don’t get me wrong, but he’s still a fucking cop at the end of the day.”

That surprises me greatly. I’ve always been under the impression that Eric genuinely liked my Father. “I know you don’t like that Walsh guy, but they’re not all bad, you know. A lot of them are good, decent hardworking guys who put their lives on the line everyday to protect us.”

“Is that what cops do?” Eric asks, voice thick with sarcasm. “Thanks for the info, Lucy, I’ve always wondered. Hey, what about those guys with firehoses and yellow hats who drive around in big red trucks? Any idea what the deal is with those fuckers?”

“Once I douse you with gasoline and grab a box of matches, you can find out first hand,” I threaten.

Eric starts to laugh. Shivering, I cuddle up closer to him in an attempt to absorb some body heat. “You cold?” he asks, wrapping an arm around me. “Maybe it’s you that needs to be set on fire instead.”

“I’m freezing my ass off,” I admit, seriously regretting my decision to leave the house without so much as a jacket.

“Well we can’t have that,” he says, shrugging off the sleeves of his trench coat.

“No, you keep it. I don’t want you to get cold.”

“I’m warm enough,” he insists. “Come on, put the coat on. I’ve grown fond of that ass and I don’t want it freezing off.”

“Seriously, Eric, I’m good.” 

“Damn it, Lucy, don’t be so stubborn!” Eric holds the coat out in front of him by the shoulders as he offers it over to me. “That ass must be protected at all costs!”

“You’re a fucking ass,” I tell him, laughing as I slide my arms into the sleeves. “But thank you nonetheless.”

Eric moves to stand in front of me and - much to my amusement - starts to do up the buttons. I stand there smiling at him until he finishes, finally looking back up at me with a grin. “There. Now you’re perfect.”

Laying on our backs on the short grass beneath us, we stare up at a sea of bright twinkling stars - stretching as far as the eye can see. Even though our future together is scary and uncertain, it’s hard to think about that now - in fact it’s difficult to worry about anything, laying beneath the cosmos, hand in hand with him.

All my problems feel infinitely smaller and less significant with just the two of us and a vast, glorious canvas of never ending stars. Tonight, simply being with him again is enough. It’s everything. My heart’s most fervent desire. The greatest comfort imaginable. Just the cure for what ails me. And in this moment, I feel like I could float here with him forever.

“This whole situation sucks so much,” I sigh deeply, watching my breath rising upward in the cold night air. “I wish there was something I could do.”

“You could always help me blow up the school,” Eric jokingly suggests, giving my hand a quick squeeze as we stare up at the sky.

“And what would that solve?” I grin, turning my head to look over at him.

“A lot of things,” he mutters, staring straight up at the sky. “Maybe you should just go to New York, Lucy. Maybe you’d be better off....”

”Do you want me to go?” I ask quietly, stunned that he’d even say such a thing.

“What? No! Of course not! I just meant that maybe things would be easier for you if you if you did...” 

“Oh God, you’re not dumping me again, are you?” I ask, horrified as I sit up on the grass. 

“What are you talking about? I never dumped you!” Eric quickly insists, sitting up after me. “If anything you broke up with me!”

“Bullshit!” I protest. “I did not!”

“Really? I didn’t see you climbing up onto my roof at 2:00a.m. and sending me sunflowers to try and win me back!”

“I literally just showed up at your bedroom window a half an hour ago!” I remind him.

“We’re not talking about tonight though, are we? We’re talking about you dumping my ass and trying to turn the tables in the history books!”

“I never dumped yo-.”

“I didn’t nearly fall off your roof and face plant down in your Mom’s azaleas for nothing, you know!” he interrupts me.

“Those poor azaleas are fucked,” I tell him, suddenly remembering that Mom’s flowers were an unfortunate casualty of tonight’s little misadventure. “I landed in them when I jumped down into the garden...”

“Don’t try to distract me just because you know I’m right! I was trying to win you back that night, remember?”

“Kind of,” I smile, remembering how sweet and remorseful he’d been after that particular incident.

“Then you had the audacity to flip me off and close the curtains in my face!” he reminds me, shaking his head.

“Yeah, because you had the audacity to accuse me of screwing Scott and lying about it, remember that?!”

“Oh shit, no, I totally forgot about that actually,” he laughs, squinting his eyes closed. “Sorry! Fuck! I really am a shitty husband, aren’t I?”

“Oh big time,” I nod my head in agreement. “You’re a total asshole, if I’m being perfectly honest.”

A slow grin stretches across Eric’s lips.  
“I’m your asshole though, aren’t I?”

I roll my eyes at that, but find myself laughing again. “My heart, my soul and my asshole, all wrapped up in one annoying little package.”

“God, you are so fucking romantic sometimes,” he smirks, leaning over to kiss me. “Come here, you.”

“I don’t know if we should,” I stop him, placing a hand on his chest.

“Why not?” he whispers, sliding a hand down between my legs. “I know I made you feel bad. I wanna make it up to you. I wanna make you feel good...”

“I’m not in the mood,” I tell him, grabbing his wrist and taking his hand away.

“Liar,” he chuckles, burying his face in my neck. “You’re always in the mood.”

When he gets no response, Eric pulls away with a heavy sigh. “You’re still mad at me, aren’t you?”

“No,” I reply simply, not sure how true the statement actually is.

“Then why don’t you wanna fuck me?” he asks, sounding a little hurt.

A burst of laughter spills from my lips as I shake my head in disbelief. “Maybe because it’s fucking freezing out and we’re laying on the middle of a football field!”

“Yeah, but...” Eric’s voice trails off.

“But what?” I ask, lips turned up into a smirk.

“I’m horny,” he says.

“Too bad, Harris. Guess you should have thought about that before you went and committed a damn felony...”

“Ugh, thanks for reminding me.” Eric falls down onto the grass with a sigh, proceeding to stare back up at the stars. “There’s something for you in the pocket of my coat by the way.”

“It better not be a condom,” I reply, shoving a hand down into the pocket of his coat as Eric laughs at me. Feeling just his lighter in the first pocket, I stick my hand into the other and feel something small and round. Fishing it out, I hold it up in front of my face for examination - a silver ring, engraved with a pattern of delicate swirling flowers. Turning it over, I notice more lettering inside - squinting down at it in the darkness, I can just about make out our initials carved along the inside of the band.

“Oh wow, Eric. It’s so beautiful,” I murmur, staring down at the ring in my hand with nothing short of pure awe. “You really got this for me?”

“No, I got it for Dylan, I just thought you might want to try it on first,” he replies - grinning up at me from where he’s laid flat on his back on the grass.

“I can’t believe you did this,” I tell him, feeling myself start to get choked up again.

“It was no big deal,” he assures me. “I paid one of the guys thirty bucks to make it for me in shop. Besides,” he laughingly adds. “I was tired of looking at your finger turning green from the other one I gave you.”

“I love that ring too,” I tell him, glancing down at the cheap toy ring he’d gotten me at the gas station. He is right though, the thing has long since turned the skin beneath it a rather unpleasant shade of green. Still, despite how bad it looks, I have yet to be able to bring myself to take it off.

“Here, let me do it,” Eric offers, sitting back up again and taking my hand in his. He takes my old ring between his thumb and index finger and begins to slowly slide it off.

“No, don’t take it off! Just put the other one down on top of it!”

“Lucy, that thing is going to turn your fucking hand septic eventually,” he chuckles. “Come on, let me take it off. You can still keep it.”

“Okay,” I nod, reluctantly giving in as he takes the ring from my finger - quickly sliding the new one down in place of the old. It is a beautiful ring and I can’t help being touched by the fact that he procured it just for me.

“Thank you, Eric,” I tell him, grinning widely, feeling the tears threatening to fall once more. “I love it... I love you.”

“Yeah?” he grins back, cocking an eyebrow. “How much?”

Making our way back to the car, I redo the buttons of Eric’s coat while he puffs away on another one of my cigarettes - walking along next to me with a noticeable spring in his step. “That was awesome, Lucy,” he sighs happily between drags - before offering the cigarette over to me. “Thanks. I really needed that. You don’t even know.”

I accept it from him gratefully, taking a deep drag of my own then another - wondering how in the hell he always manages to be so damn persuasive. If he wanted to, I truly believe that Eric could sell ice to a group of Eskimos. “I can’t believe we just had sex on the football field,” I admit - feeling a little embarrassed at how carried away we let ourselves get.

“I know,” Eric chuckles, shaking his head as though he doesn’t quite believe it himself. “I wasn’t expecting it either. I mean, I thought I might get a hand job tonight if I was lucky, but I definitely didn’t anticipate that happening... God, who knew you were such a whore?”

I nudge him hard in the side with an elbow, only making him laugh even harder. “I may not have the body of an athlete, but that sure as shit didn’t stop me from scoring on the football field tonight, now did it?!”

Rising from bed the following morning, grumpy, tired and just a little sore - he is the very first thought that comes to mind, just as he’d been the last before I finally fell asleep last night. Making my way downstairs in my pajamas, I hold my left hand out in front of me - smiling proudly down at my new ring as I head towards the kitchen.

“Can I tell you something, cupcake?” Mom asks, clasping her coffee cup between both hands as she sits opposite me at the kitchen table. “You’re not a little kid anymore, I can talk to about things like this...”

“Sure,” I reply, crunching on a mouthful of toast, not liking where this is going already.

Mom looks back towards the kitchen door then leans across the table towards me, face alight with excitement. “I’m seeing someone!”

“Oh God.” I drop my slice of toast down onto the table.

“I met him at church a few weeks ago.”

“Are you serious?” Slowly shaking my head, I find it immensely difficult to process this information. “The last time we went to church you were so hungover you wouldn’t take your sunglasses off and then you fell asleep right there! God, that was so embarrassing...” 

“It was after that,” she informs me with a frown. “And I wasn’t hungover that morning, I... just didn’t get a lot of sleep the night before.”

“Sure,” I roll my eyes. “You were just tired. Okay.”

“There’s no need to be bitter just because your love life is in the toilet right now with Eric basically being house bound. I thought you’d be happy for me, Lucy.” 

You thought wrong, I think, but somehow manage to keep the thought to myself.

“I’m putting myself back out there and met someone nice,” she continues. “What’s wrong with that?”

“I assume he knows you’re married?”

“He knows I’m getting divorced,” she quickly retorts, bringing her cup back up to her mouth for another long drink.

Closing my eyes, I run a hand back through my hair, sighing heavily. Dad isn’t going to like this. Not one little bit.

“Lucy, I’m going to be all on my own soon with you and David moving to New York. Abandoning your poor Mother like it’s nothing after all the years of love and care I’ve given you...”

“I don’t want to go anywhere, Mom,” I inform her - having suddenly lost my appetite, I opt to start pulling my toast apart with my fingers instead. “I want to stay here.”

“What about art school?”

“Fuck art school.”

“And your Dad?”

It takes me a second or two to reply this time - in two minds about this.

“Fuck him too.”

“Really?” Mom looks surprised. “So you’d prefer to stay here with me then?”

Not you necessarily, no, but unless Sarah wants to take me in, you remain my only option.

“I would.” 

“Oh this is just wonderful!” Mom grins. “This is really going to stick it to him!”

“I don’t want to stick it to him, I just don’t want to have to leave,” I quietly reply, suddenly feeling incredibly guilty for my choice of words.

“Either way, this is fantastic!” she happily gushes. “I can’t wait to tell him! It’s going to be so much fun just the two of us girls, cupcake!”

I force a smile in response, fervently wishing I could somehow miraculously convince Eric’s parents to let him move to New York with Dad and I.

“And Jake, of course,” she adds with a smile. “After a while, who knows, he might be living here as well...”

Of course his name is Jake. God, is she for real?

“You want to move some weird man into the house? Oh come on, Mom! No! Please, no!”

“You’ll like him when you get to know him, Lucy,” she assures me. Mom clears her throat then takes another sip of her coffee. “I actually told him you’d be willing to volunteer down at the church this weekend,” she adds quietly, not meeting my eye.

“You did what?! Dear God, Mom, why?!”

“Because he needed someone to organize donations for the big jumble sale next week and I knew you wouldn’t be doing anything!”

Burying my face in my hands, I let out a loud groan of annoyance. “Why do you hate me, Mom?”

“I don’t hate you, cupcake,” she insists. “I love you and I’d really love it if you did me this favor.”

“What am I getting out of it?”

“Besides the spiritual reward?”

“Yeah,” I roll my eyes. “Besides that.”

“Eric might be able to go with you. Is that incentive enough?”

“How much vodka did you put in that coffee, Mom? You know his parents aren’t letting him leave the house to go anywhere but work and school.”

“You let me worry about the Harris’. I’ll tell them your Dad suggested this as a little extra volunteer work to make Eric’s case a little stronger.”

“You think that’ll work?”

“Probably,” Mom nods, taking another sip of coffee. “Well, as long as they don’t speak to your Dad between now and next Saturday at least...”

I wake up earlier than usual on Monday morning and spend far longer than I typically would getting ready - feeling just as excited about seeing him as I did the first night he’d invited me along on one of his and Dylan’s “Rebel Missions.”

Walking down the hallway, hoping to catch Eric before his first class, I soon come across Brooks instead - leaning up against his locker, staring over at me as soon as I turn the corner. It’s blatantly obvious that he sees me looking back at him and I know I have no way of avoiding a conversation now without looking like a bitch.

“Hey Brooks, you seen tweedle-dee and tweedle-dumbass anywhere?”

“Hey Lucy, no, not today at least,” Brooks laughs, walking over to me. Lowering his voice, he leans in a little. “Hey, did you get a chance to look at Eric’s website?”

I knew that’s what he was going to say. I fucking knew it.

“No, not yet,” I lie, but I’m not entirely sure why. Hasn’t Eric already convinced me I have nothing to worry about?

“I’m sure you probably know this already, seeing as how your Dad’s a cop and all, but it looks like they’re finally going to do something about him.”

“What does that mean?” I ask, feeling my face morph into an involuntary frown.

“Come on, Lucy, everyone at school is talking about him and Dylan getting in trouble. Whatever it was about, I’m sure it was Eric’s idea, Dylan was never like that before he met him.”

“Maybe Dylan should be held responsible for his own actions,” I tell him, feeling my irritation start to grow considerably. “He’s not a fucking child you know.”

“I know, but you have to admit, he’s nowhere near as much of a wild card as Eric is.”

“He’s not a perfect little angel either...”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Lucy, but Eric is bad news, trust me.”

It’s bad enough I can’t see him or talk to him outside of school, now I have Brooks on my case about dating him too.

“Well, I disagree, but thanks for the unwarranted opinion.”

“There’s no need to get testy with me just because your boyfriend can’t stay out of trouble for five minutes!”

“Oh fuck off, Brooks!” I snap, surprising even myself with the sudden outburst.

“You know what?” he scoffs. “Fine. Never mind. I shouldn’t have even bothered trying to warn you. Clearly you and Harris are perfect for one another!” 

“Oh clearly,” I reply with a roll of my eyes. “Nice talking to you, Brooks!” Annoyed, I turn around and walk away from the conversation. Eric was right about him, I think, but part of me is genuinely upset. He isn’t a bad guy really and I feel a little guilty for having snapped at him, especially when him and Dylan are friends.

“Hi Lucy!” Becky jumps out from behind a corner up ahead - successfully pulling me from my train of thought and scaring the absolute shit out of me.

“Jesus Christ!” Placing a hand my chest, I take a second or two to calm my racing heart.

“I didn’t realize you were friends with Brooks,” she smiles, pushing her glasses up along the bridge her nose - completely ignoring the fact that she just leapt out at me from nowhere.

“I wouldn’t say we’re friends exactly...”

“Really?” she asks, confused. “I thought I just heard you say it was nice taking to him?”

I stare at her blankly for a second or two. Becky just smiles back in response as though the concept of sarcasm is lost on her entirely - I feel like a bitch for even thinking it, but I’d be lying if I said that part of me didn’t regret the decision to try and make new friends.

Glancing around the hall for someone to save me, Becky takes the opportunity to hook her arm through mine. “Do you know if he’s seeing anyone?” she asks, leaning uncomfortably close as we start to walk down the hall.

“I’m not sure,” I tell her, attempting to casually unhook my arm from hers. She glances down as I take my arm away, but doesn’t say anything about it - she’s got something else on her mind, or rather someone else.

“Could you find out?” she pleads. “Oh Lucy, I’ll just die if I find out he has a girlfriend!”

I’m sorely tempted to tell her that he does, in the hopes that maybe she’s telling the truth - but that thought leaves me feeling like an even bigger bitch, so reluctantly, I agree to find out Brooks’ relationship status.

“I’m pretty sure Brooks is single, but I’ll ask Dylan. He’ll probably know for sure.”

“Thanks Lucy, you’re the best!” she beams and I can’t help smiling back, despite how annoyingly chipper my new friend is this morning.

“Of course that fucker is single,” Eric answers the question for her - stepping in between us and throwing an arm over my shoulder. “Are you serious? He looks like a damn mole rat for crying out loud. Who would want to fuck that?”

“No, he does not, Eric!” Becky loudly pipes up in response, taking us both by surprise.

“Asked and answer, I guess,” Eric laughs.

“Don’t you talk about Brooks like that!” she demands - scowling at him.

Wide eyed, Eric rests a hand over his heart, looking back and fourth between Becky and I.

Immediately I can tell from the glint in his eye that he’s about to say something he shouldn’t. “Lucy, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but I think your new friend Gretchen might be smoking that crack stuff I keep hearing so much about...”

“My name is Becky!” she snaps, stomping a foot up and down, not dissimilar to a four year old throwing a tantrum.

“My apologies, Rebecca,” Eric sighs, shooting me a quick ‘Is this bitch for real?’ look.

“Not Rebecca, you jerk,” she sharply corrects him. “Just Becky.” As soon as she says it, I know she’s gone too far. She should have just taken the apology. He’s not going to be able to help himself now.

“Okay, just Becky,” Eric exhales heavily, rolling his eyes - more than ready to end the conversation. “Becky the mole rat lover. Got it.”

“Eric!” I scold him, not wanting him to upset her, even though I’m trying hard not to laugh myself. “Brooks is not a mole rat and Becky is not a mole rat lover! You apologize to her this instant!”

Eric cracks first, squinting his eyes closed, doubled over in the hall with a stream of steady breathless laughter spilling out of him. That immediately sets me off and I’m not much better as I join in, throwing my head back and slapping a hand up and down on my knee as I struggle to catch my breath.

Becky looks angry for a couple of seconds, glancing back and fourth between the two of us, but soon starts to laugh as well. Before we part ways to head to our respective classes, I ask her to come along to the smoker’s pit with us at lunch, but she declines - much to Eric’s painfully obvious relief.

“Why don’t you like Becky?” I ask on our way towards English, the one class we actually have together.

“She’s fucking weird, Lucy. Plus she smells like mothballs, might I add...”

“No, she doesn’t,” I laugh, rolling my eyes at him. “What’s the problem with her, really?”

“I don’t dislike her,” he shrugs. “I just don’t see why we need anyone else hanging around with us, that’s all. Don’t we have fun on our own?”

“Well, yeah,” I admit, “but it’d be nice to have a friend besides the guy I’m dating, you know?”

“That’s what we have Dylan for! He’s your friend now too, isn’t he?”

“Of course he is, but-.”

“God, how many friends do you need, woman?!” Eric interrupts, throwing his arms up in faux frustration.

“I think Mom’s fucking some guy she met at church,” I blurt.

“Oh yeah?” Eric doesn’t even look all that surprised. “Good for her... you get that dick, Mrs. Peters!”

“Ew, you are so fucking gross sometimes...” I look over at him, horrified as he proceeds to laugh at my responding expression.

“It’s not the priest, is it?” he asks amusedly.

“Jesus, I hope not,” I reply, not entirely sure I could even put that past her. “Whoever the asshole is, she told him I’d be willing to help out down at the church this weekend.” 

“Well, that’s probably gonna suck for you,” he commiserates.

“Maybe it could suck for the both of us.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, confused. “You know I’m not allowed to go anywhere right now.”

“I know, but Mom said she was going to ask your parents if you could come help me out,” I explain. “A little extra volunteer work might make you look better to the judge.”

“Your Mom would really do that?”

“Apparently so. I think she’s just trying to butter me up because she wants me to stay here when Dad moves to New York.”

“She does?” Eric grins widely. “That’s fucking great news! Do you think your Dad will let you stay?”

“I don’t know,” I admit with a shrug of my shoulders. “He’s already got a place picked out for us and enrolled me in school, so he won’t be happy about it, but I hope so.”

Eric’s expression quickly changes from one of relief to one of immediate worry and I can’t help but notice the sadness in his eyes as he speaks. “I’ve had to leave behind every friend I ever made before I moved to Colorado, you know, but I’d do it all again if I had to because if not I never would have met you.”

Taking his hand in mine, I offer him a small smile as we walk down the hall towards English. Eric squeezes my hand tightly in response, but doesn’t smile back, then he stops walking entirely - standing there frozen like a statue in the hallway behind me.

“Are you okay?” I ask, growing slightly concerned as I turn back around to face him.

“Please don’t leave me, Lucy,” he says, so softly that it’s barely even audible. “Please don’t go.” 

Taking in his words and crestfallen expression, my heart sinks in my chest. I have no idea where I’m going to be two weeks from now. I could be in his arms, I could be almost two thousand miles away, but I can’t bring myself to remind him of that fact. Instead, I say what I need to, just to make both of our days in some way tolerable.

“Never,” I tell him, throwing my arms around his shoulders. “I’ll never leave you, Eric.” 

He wraps his own arms around me then, pulling me closer, holding me against him in an almost vice like grip as we stand there in the hall. “Promise me,” he says the words quietly - a notable tinge of desperation in his voice. 

I know I shouldn’t. I know how little say, if any, I’ll actually have in the matter, but standing there with his arms wrapped around me, all I can bring myself to say in response is; “I promise.” 


	19. Of Saints And Sadism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am the fucker who should be shot. 🙃

Despite the dagger to the heart that is our forced separation, the rest of my week progresses typically enough - albeit with a few more tearful nights and a lot more arguments with Dad than is usual. 

While it’s nice to have a reason to look forward to the typically hellacious prospect of attending school each morning - the small chunks of time Eric and I manage to get together are simply not enough - and every day when school comes to an end and we inevitably part ways for the evening, that dagger cruelly embedded in my chest twists a little deeper. 

Thankfully he is still allowed to go to work, but I’ve spent far too much money on pizza this week as a result. I want my boyfriend back, not to go fat and broke, but that remains a very real possibility seeing as how the Harris’ have yet to relent. Sadly neither has my own Father, still just as stubborn and unyielding as they are. New York. New fucking York. Jesus. He might as well be asking me to move to Timbuktu with him. 

Eric once jokingly referred to me as “the Mother Theresa of Columbine”- jokingly being being the operative word. I sincerely doubt Mother Theresa ever wanted to tear her hair out at the roots over the prospect of having to spend Saturday morning at church. Still, a promise is a promise and even if my end of the bargain hadn’t worked out in the end, I know Mom tried her best to persuade the Harris’ to let Eric come along. 

Rammstein blaring from the speakers, I drive over to Becky’s place to pick her up, late Saturday morning - savoring the sweet sound of buzzsaw-guitars and growling German vocals as a light dusting of slow lands on the ground. 

“Can we listen to something else, Lucy?” Becky whines, not five seconds after climbing into the car next to me. “I’m not really into this kind of music.”

She might as well have just say she isn’t into the Mona Lisa or Michelangelo’s David. “Get the fuck out of my car this instant,” I jokingly demand, sliding the half-empty carton of cigarettes from the pocket of my jeans. 

Becky snaps her head to the side to look at me - eyes wide with surprise, mouth slightly agape. “I... I...”

“I’m just messing with you,” I laugh, retrieving a cigarette from the carton with my teeth before letting it fall down onto my lap. “I wasn’t serious.” 

Becky clamps a hand over her heart, breathing a deep sigh of relief, then starts to laugh. 

Fishing my lighter out of my pocket, I laugh too, but it’s forced and as awful as it sounds, I’d happily push her out of this moving car right now if it meant I could pick Eric up at the end of the street. 

“Thanks for coming with with me... Becky,” I manage to catch myself just before calling her Gretchen. “I’m sure it would have been a very dull couple of hours without any company.” 

The snow starts to fall a little heavier now, a thin coat already covering the bonnet of the car and the road ahead.

“No problem, Lucy, really,” Becky replies in her usual sunny tone, pushing her glasses up along the bridge of her nose. “I know how bummed you were that Eric couldn’t come.” 

Bummed isn’t entirely accurate. Hopelessly fucking distraught would be a far more fitting term, but I keep the thought to myself, not wanting to sound like the melodramatic fool I most assuredly am. 

A million tiny flecks of frozen water flutter downward - cold and pure and beautiful, instantly dissolving beneath my windshield wipers. 

“Yeah, I was,” I admit, fervently hoping I can actually keep this piece of shit car on the road until we get there, “but we’ll still have a good time, right?” I don’t know which of the two of us I’m trying to convince as I say it, but I do know that I’m full of shit. There’s no denying the fact that today is going to suck like a three dollar whore. 

“Right!” Becky nods her head and smiles, looking more enthusiastic about this than I’ve ever been about anything in my life. “It’s going to be awesome!”

“I wouldn’t go that far, Becky, but thanks for coming all the same.” Even if you did invite yourself along and I’d just been too polite to say no... 

Forcing a smile, I turn the radio up a little, urging myself to not act like a miserable bitch, despite how prevalent and natural the urge may be. 

“Hey, did you ask Dylan about Brooks yet?” she shouts over the music, bouncing up and down in her seat like a rambunctious toddler on a sugar high. 

Gripping the wheel with one hand, I bring my cigarette back up to my lips with the other, attempting to quash my growing irritation - Becky is a nice girl, she really is, but I have nowhere near enough energy to be dealing with her hyperactive ass today. 

I take another drag, trying to ignore how incredibly mentally drained I feel already - exhaling a cloud of smoke as I turn the radio back down again. “What am I asking him abou-.” That’s when I remember. “Oh, right... no, sorry, I forgot.”

“Lucy!” Becky moans unhappily, folding her arms across her chest - pouting like a four year old as she sits next to me in the passenger seat. 

I want to make friends besides Eric and Dylan, I truly do, but that’s easier said than done - especially when the vast majority of people I come into contact with on a daily basis make me want to set myself on fire.

“I’m sorry, Becky,” I apologize - cursing myself once again for being stupid enough to complain to her that Eric couldn’t come along. “I’ll ask him on Monday, okay? I swear.” 

That seems to satisfy her. “Okay, thanks, Lucy. Hey...” her voice trails off for a second, making me glance over at her. “You don’t think Brooks looks like a mole rat, do you?” 

“No comment,” I reply, fighting a smile, turning back to stare out at the road in front of us. 

“I just don’t know how to talk to him, you know?” Becky sighs. “How did you and Eric get together, how did you guys know you liked one another?” 

A slow smile spreads across my face at the memory of that night - the night that changed everything for the both of us. 

I hadn’t even wanted to go to that stupid party, neither had he, but somehow we both found ourselves there that night - out on the patio, cigarettes in hand, staring up at the stars. 

“We were at some lame party and started talking out in the garden while we were having a cigarette. I thought he was cute and a little weird, but in a good way, so I asked him if he wanted to get out of there and come up into the mountains with me to watch the sunrise.” 

“And what did he say?” Becky asks curiously, leaning over towards me in her chair. 

“He called me a poser, said all my friends were dicks then demanded I make out with him if I was serious...” 

“No way!” she scoffs disbelievingly. “And you still went out with him?” 

“Of course I did!” 

“But why though?” she presses further, still seemingly thinking I’m joking. 

“Back when I was friends with Laura and the girls I was pretty much untouchable,” I explain, staring out the windshield at the thin blanket off white stretched out in front of us. “It felt like I was part of the hierarchy, you know? People would kiss my ass and basically treat me like royalty just because of who I hung out with and until that point nobody ever had the balls to speak to me like Eric did.”

“Seems a little... abrasive,” Becky seems to chose the word carefully. 

“Maybe,” I concede, “but he cut right though the crap and laid everything out on the table and I appreciated that. I still appreciate that... More than any of that superficial surface level bullshit that came before.”

“You liked the fact that he called you a poser?”

“I liked the fact that he saw right through the charade,” I tell her, trying and struggling to find the right words. “He knew I wasn’t happy. He knew I was pretending to be someone I wasn’t and he was the first person who ever actually called me out on it.” 

“And that was it for you, huh? After that you just knew you guys were right for each other?” 

“Yep.” I laugh, nodding my head as we drive along the last snowy street toward the chapel. “We’ve been pretty much inseparable ever since... I guess you could say it was love at first insult.” 

The smell of incense still lingering in the air from morning mass - Becky and I soon arrive at church to set about the task of organizing donations. And Jake - the guy Mom told me about, a tall blonde dopey looking son of a bitch with a goatee - turns out to be just as big of a douchebag as I anticipated. 

“Hello there, girls, I’m so glad you’re here! So nice to meet you both! My name’s Jake!” He greets us just inside the huge mahogany doorway at the entrance - all fake smiles and over the top enthusiasm and straight off the bat I find myself taking a fierce and immediate dislike to him.

Him and Becky make idle chitchat as we follow him inside. I don’t say anything, I’m too busy thinking about how good it would feel to punch this idiot in the back of the head. How fucking dare he. Preying on my poor vulnerable Mom like a rabid dog that wears too much hair gel... 

We follow him up to the altar at the top of the church - now surrounded by a sea of large cardboard boxes stacked on top of one another. “I know it looks like a lot of stuff, but with the two of you here you should get it done in no time!”

This asshole didn’t even know I was bringing someone. He’d probably have been more than happy to let me stay here until midnight, sorting through all this old crap on my own, as long as he doesn’t have to be involved.

“We got this, don’t we, Lucy?” Becky rests her hands on her hips, eyeing the stacks of boxes up and down with a determined smile. Part of me admires her attitude, but most of me just wants to go home. 

I can’t be with Eric right now, but I should be and it’s ripping me apart because our time together could be finite. All I really want to do right now is walk back out to the car, drive home and climb back into bed. Maybe I’ll dream of him. 

Fuck this shit. Fuck this dopey asshole and his fake fucking smile. Fuck the stupid jumble sale. Fuck New York, but most importantly, fuck my Dad for trying to ruin my fucking life... 

“Yep.” I nod, forcing another smile - feeling the verbal bile rising in my throat and choking back the words I truly want to say. “I guess so.” 

“Great!” Douchebag flashes another grin and I now have a clear mental image of myself running over him with Mom’s car. “I’ll be back around six to take over, alrighty?” 

“Are you kidding me?!” I blurt - horrified at the notion of having to spend six whole hours here. On a Saturday. Working for free. With Becky. Satan himself couldn’t have conjured such a horrendously sinister punishment. “You seriously expect us to stay here until six o’clock? I thought this would be an hour or two kind of deal, max!” 

Douche’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Well, yeah. Your Mother and I are going shopping,” he explains, “then we have reservations at five and-.”

“Hold on.” I put a hand up, interrupting him - closing my eyes for a second to properly process the situation. “Let me get this straight. You want us to stay here, sorting through all this old crap for six hours because you’re too busy off fucking my Mother to do it yourself?”

Becky gasps like she’s witnessing a courthouse drama, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. 

“I...” Goatee McDouchebag pauses, a flush of pink blooming along his cheeks - now looking incredibly flustered. “I’m not... I... I don’t have to explain myself to you!” 

“You know my Dad is a cop, right?” I stare him dead in the eye, attempting to make my voice as threatening as possible. “He’s a pretty important one, too. He could probably shoot a little pissant like you in the head and not see a day in prison...”

“Lucy!” A scandalized Becky attempts to intervene. “Stop it!” 

I ignore her and much to my delight, my shallow threat provokes the desired result - Jake now looks like he’s about to shit himself. 

If my parents’ marriage has to come to an end, there’s very little I can do about it, but this douchebag is not living in my house. Dad’s done nothing but piss me off about New York all week, but I still love the stubborn old grump and this 6ft sack of bleached blonde shit is not replacing him. He never could. My Father is a hero, this man is a clown and he isn’t a quarter of the man my Dad is, not on his best day. 

“You run along and go see my Mother, Jake,” I tell him - almost as surprised and appalled at the words that are leaving my mouth as he is. “You find her and tell her that you can’t see her anymore. If she asks why, tell her you’ve finally grown a shred of decency and decided not to mess around with a married woman...” 

Douchey McDouche Douche promptly rushes out of there with his tail between his legs - off to do God knows what with my Mother while we set to work doing his job for him. Quietly seething, I stand there staring towards the end of the chapel at the door lover boy just hurried out of. 

“I can’t believe that’s the fucking guy,” I mutter, feeling a sudden overwhelming urge to run out into the parking lot after him and start screaming like a raving lunatic. It wouldn’t just be about Douche though, it’d be me releasing all the pent-up frustration and anger I’ve been poorly attempting to suppress all week. 

“Mom and Dad are still married for fuck’s sake! God, can you believe the audacity of that prick?!” 

Becky’s eyes are the size of dinner plates when I turn around to face her. “I can’t believe you just did that... that’s what I can’t believe.” 

“It’s just ridiculous to me that Mom would have anything to do with that dickhead!” 

The flood gates have already opened and the cat’s out of the bag as far as how pissed I am is concerned - so I allow myself permission to rant, throwing my arms in the air exasperatedly as I begin to unleash my complaints upon poor unsuspecting Becky. 

“My Dad is awesome and that guy seems like such a fucking tool! I don’t get it! Why would someone throw away filet mignon just to go buy McDonald’s?” 

“I like McDonald’s,” Becky replies, missing the point entirely. 

Hanging my head, I finally let out that deep sigh I’ve been holding in all day. I don’t want to be here. I want to be nestled up in the safety of my bed, deep beneath the covers with him - the only person whose voice doesn’t sound like nails on a chalkboard to me now.

“You okay, Lucy?” 

I only saw him yesterday, but I miss him already. I miss him like crazy. I miss like a recently severed limb. I miss him and nobody and nothing else will do. 

I have plenty of time to worry and pine over him this weekend, I remind myself. Plenty of time on my own to think and dream and hopelessly crave his presence - that’s probably all I’m going to do until Monday morning and if I’m being perfectly honest, every day after that in the lead up to the big move, aka; the big fucking disaster looming just on the horizon. 

“Something wrong?” Becky’s voice snaps me back to reality when I realize I’ve been zoned out a little too long. 

“Of course not. All good.” I do my best to sound upbeat - looking back up at her with what feels like my millionth fake smile of the week. “Let’s get to work then, shall we?”

Most of the boxes are stuffed to the brim with old clothes and books, things like tattered stuffed animals and board games with half the pieces missing. Every so often we come across something mildly interesting or find an article of clothing so ridiculous we have to try it on, just to make ourselves laugh and break up the monotony. 

Donning a large pair of star-shaped sunglasses and a beret - Becky pauses in the middle of folding up an ugly Christmas jumper and looks over at me. “I’m starving,” she complains, tossing the sweater back down into one of the boxes. “Let’s go get some lunch and come back after.” 

“I’d rather just power through and get this over and done with,” I admit, riffling through a box of old magazines - still wearing the sizable cowboy hat and bright pink feather boa I’d tried on earlier. “You can go grab a bite to eat if you’re hungry though, I don’t mind.” 

“You sure?” Becky stands up, taking off her sunglasses, discarding them in a pile of clothes on the ground. “I’ll only be a half hour or so.”

“Yeah, you go ahead.” At least I won’t have to listen to her talk about how dreamy Brooks is for a while. “Take your time.” 

“I’ll bring you back a sandwich, okay?” she tells me, leaving the beret on her head as she starts off down the isle. 

“Cool, thanks.” 

Continuing to peruse the contents of the magazine collection in front of me, I listen to the sound of her footsteps fade as she walks down towards the huge mahogany door at the end of the church. 

I slide one of the magazines out of the pile at random, feeling my eyes widen a little when I realize what I’m looking at - a twenty-five year old issue of Playboy, dated June 1974 on the spine. 

“Woah,” I mutter, staring down at the cover - immediately intrigued. I’ve never seen a porn mag before, let alone one from a quarter of a century ago. Did someone put this in here deliberately, or did they just not realize they were donating it to a church? Either way, I’m compelled to take a quick peek. 

Holding the magazine sideways, I feel my eyes widen further at the sight of two naked women stretched out on a large rock in front of a waterfall - all Farrah Fawcett-esque hair and more bush between them than all your neighbor’s gardens combined... 

That’s when the church door unexpectedly creaks open again, making me drop the magazine down into my lap in surprise and shame. I could shove it back down into the box, I have time, but for some reason - unknown to even myself - I opt to sit on it instead. 

“Forget your purse?” I call over my shoulder, riffling through another box, pretending to still be busy at work. 

“Nope!” 

One word is all it takes to recognize his voice and I’m grinning from ear to ear before I even turn around to face him. 

“I’ve got my purse right here! Where else would I keep my tampons and rosary beads?” his voice echoes through the church and I’m on my feet in seconds - hurrying down the isle to meet him.

“I’m just here as a fellow child of God to worship our Lord and savior Jesus Christ!” 

Eric meets me halfway, cheeks lightly flushed from the cold - coat and hair speckled with flakes of snow. He takes a second to examine the cowboy hat atop my head - a small and immediate smirk playing on his lips. “Howdy Cowgirl. Loving the feather boa...”

Before I’ve even made the conscious decision to do so, I find myself throwing my arms around him - pulling him into an embrace with a burst of delighted laughter. 

Eric lets out a groan as I more or less throw myself at him, but laughs as he wraps his arms around me, hugging me back. “Nice to see you, too! Now tell me, what the fuck are you wearing?” 

“I thought you weren’t allowed to come!” I ignore the question, the abundance of excitement in my voice all too clear. 

“I lied,” he replies, donning a particularly adorable lopsided grin. “I wanted to surprise you.” 

“Aw, aren’t you sweet?” Pulling away from him, I peal the feather boa from round my neck before tossing it over his head. 

“And just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Eric rests his hands on his hips, attempting and failing to look stern. 

“Making you look pretty.” 

“With that thing? Christ... I shudder to think how many poor innocent flamingos were slaughtered to make that atrocity.” 

I set to work wrapping the boa around his neck, leaving the ends - two trails of bright pink feathers - dangling down along his chest. After running my fingers through the feathers a few times, ruffling them up, I step back to admire my handiwork. “There you go.” 

Eric scowls at me disapprovingly, but the corners of his lips are starting to twitch and I can tell he’s fighting a smile. 

“Don’t you look fabulous?” I snap my fingers, dramatically flipping my hair back over my shoulder. “Work it, sister!” 

He breaks at that, a burst of loud spontaneous laughter ringing out through the church. “Fuck! Please never do that again!” 

“I thought it might boost your confidence a little,” I reply with a smile, continuing to play with one of the bright pink trails of feathers adorning his chest. 

“Oh, it worked wonders,” Eric replies, voice dripping in sarcasm. “I’ve never felt like such a strong independent woman in all my life... Can I take this fucking thing off now, please?” 

“Absolutely not.” I shake my head adamantly. “Leave it on.” 

“God, I feel like such a fag right now... I’m going to need to feel you up for a couple of minutes after this to help wash the gayness off of me, just so you know.” 

Now it’s my turn to laugh, draping my arms around his shoulders - linking my fingers behind his neck through a mass of brightly colored feathers. “Well... if you absolutely need to, I suppose I can allow it.” 

Eric cocks his head to the side, eyes locked with mine - a steely gaze that pierces straight through me with the softest of smiles etched across his lips. 

My heart starts to beat a little faster, as it often does just from being in such close proximity to him - and as the stare continues, I suddenly begin to feel a little exposed. A little vulnerable. A little like letting myself lose control completely... just like the other night on the football field. 

“I kinda wish you’d told me you were coming before I invited Becky along,” I tell him, clearing my throat, attempting to drag my mind from the gutter. “I would have liked some alone time, just the two of us.” 

“Oh fuck no!” Eric throws his head back, instantly omitting a heavy groan of annoyance in response to the news. “She’s here? Ugh! Any way we can ditch her mothball smelling ass?” 

“Oh come on, she’s not that bad,” I laugh, still relishing a sight I never imagined I’d see - Eric Harris wearing a bright pink feather boa. “Anyway, it’s your fault for not telling me you were coming!”

“Another monumental fuck-up on my behalf,” he sighs, bringing his hands down to rest atop my hips. “You just look so damn cute when you’re surprised...”

Leaning in, he nuzzles his nose against mine, bringing a small matching smile to each of our faces. 

“And you look so damn cute in that feather boa....” 

I tilt my head to the side and plant a quick kiss on his lips. Eric kisses me back then makes me smile even wider, gently nibbling my lower lip between his teeth as I attempt to pull away. A quiet stream of laughter falls from our mouths between kisses - warm soft and utterly intoxicating. 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” I tell him, quietly murmuring the words against his lips. 

“I bet so,” he chuckles, glancing down at my mouth with a lazy grin, appearing a little dazed as we part. “Gretchen doesn’t exactly strike me as the greatest company in the world.”

He’s right, of course, he usually is, but there’s no way way I’m telling him that. 

“Can’t you just say you’re glad you’re here, too?” 

“Glad?” Eric scoffs. “To be working for free on a Saturday, are you for real? Fuck no! I’m only here because you guilted me into it!” 

“Oh shut, up,” I reply, rolling my eyes at him. “We both know you had nothing better to do now that you’re grounded until you’re forty...” 

“I’ll have you know that Dad said if I’m really good I can leave the house again when I’m thirty-five!” 

“Nice. Wanna make plans for the year 2016?” 

“Sure,” he laughingly agrees. “Why not? I’ll come pick you up in my hover-car around eight, then we can go catch a rock concert on the moon, sound good?” 

“Sounds great,” I nod, unable to help from smiling at the mental image of a nearly middle aged Eric cruising around in a hover-car. 

It’s then that he glances over my shoulder, frowning slightly as he stares at the seemingly never ending pile of donations sat atop the altar. “Find anything cool in any of those boxes?” 

“No, not really,” I reply, still grinning like an idiot at the delightfully unexpected surprise of seeing him here. “There’s still a lot to get through though, I should probably get back to it. Want to give me a hand?” 

“Only if you give me one back,” Eric smirks, curling his hand into a fist, making a quick jerking motion with it while wiggling his eyebrows at me - as though the obscene hand gesture alone wasn’t enough for me to grasp his meaning. 

I shoot him an unimpressed look, but his smile only intensifies as he slowly unzips his coat. 

“My apologies, Lucy. I seem to have misspoke,” he chuckles, shrugging his arms free from the sleeves - carefully draping the garment over one of the nearby benches to dry off from the snow. 

“What I meant to say was yes, Ma’am, please put me to work. I live to serve you.” 

“Now that’s more fucking like it, Harris,” I laugh, taking his hand, warming cold fingers with mine as we walk up the isle together. 

He’s still grounded indefinitely, I’m still staring down the barrel of the gun that is New York and things seem dire, regardless of how I try to spin it in my mind - but this is a victory, however small, and I intend to savor any we can get before that gun finally goes off. 

“We need to go through all these boxes and save anything that’s in good condition or might be worth something. We can toss everything else.”

“Damn, that’s a lot of shit,” Eric utters what may very well be the understatement of the century, staring ahead at the altar - stacks upon stacks of cardboard boxes with countless piles of old clothes and random junk strewn about them. “Good thing you brought reinforcements, huh?” 

I let out a heavy sigh, mentally preparing myself for another five or so hours of this complete and utter bullshittery. He’s right though, at least I have some company, at least we’re here together. “Thank fuck for that,” I reply gratefully, giving his hand a quick squeeze. “You’re a saint for coming.” 

“Damn straight,” Eric agrees, grinning at me in a way that instantly has me grinning back - despite my still lingering annoyance at having to be here for the next few hours while Mom is off gallivanting with Douche McShithead... 

“Mind getting get started on those boxes over there?” I ask, gesturing towards the side of the altar Becky had been occupying before her departure. “It’s mostly old clothes and toys.” 

“Aye aye, captain,” he says, offering me a quick salute. 

And so we set to work, Eric promptly finding a seat on the ground somewhere amongst the maze of cardboard and me picking back up where I left off at the opposite side of the altar. 

Sorting through the boxes, the two of us inevitably launch into yet another bitch-session about our parents. 

Eric complains about feeling like a prisoner in his own house, once again berating himself for the van incident, not for breaking into it, but for having been “stupid enough to get caught.” 

I tell him about my introduction to Mom’s new friend Goatee McFuckface. I tell him about all the arguments I’ve been having with Dad and Eric offers his sympathies, but neither one of us mentions New York - neither of us wants to be the one to spoil the mood by acknowledging that six hundred pound elephant in the corner of the room. 

After a few minutes of ranting about our shitty home lives, Eric changes the subject when he finds and holds up a handful of bright red leather. “Hey Lucy, I dare you to try this on.” 

“I’m not here for your amusement,” I inform him with a sigh, pretending to be busy examining a tattered old copy of Little Women. 

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Eric informs me. “Everyone is here for my amusement.” 

A piece of dark fabric comes flying across the altar, landing directly atop the cowboy hat on my head, tilting it downward.

Startled, I look over at Eric from beneath the brim of the hat, attempting to look severely annoyed - and he’s biting down on his lower lip so hard trying not to laugh, I’m surprised he hasn’t drawn blood yet. 

“You’re supposed to be helping me!” 

“I am helping you!” he protests, waving the pile of red material in the air. “And you’d be helping me a hell of lot by trying on this skimpy little number!” 

“I’ll try it on if you try it on first,” I offer, tossing what turns out to be a cashmere sweater back at him. 

“Oh no,” Eric chuckles, shaking his head as the sweater lands on the ground next to him. “I don’t have the legs for something like that. It’ll have to be you.” 

“Alright, I’ll try it on,” I agree, if just for a quick break from the tedium. 

I walk over and take the skirt from him, stepping into it and attempting to pull it up over my jeans. 

“That’s not how you wear a skirt, dummy. The jeans have to come off first...” 

I can’t help noticing how incredibly well lit the church is and it’s normally a lot darker whenever we undress in front of each other. “Turn around and let me get changed then.” 

“Someone’s modest all of a sudden. Why am I turning around? It’s nothing I haven’t seen before you know.” 

“Yeah, well... I don’t like the way my thighs look,” I admit. 

“What? Oh come on, what the fuck are you even talking about? You have great legs!” 

“No, I don’t...” 

“Lucy, you could practically use my damn chest as an ashtray. If anyone’s going to be bitching about their body and feeling self-conscious it’s me. I won’t hear another word of complaint about those beautiful gams...”

“Gams?” I can’t help but snicker at his choice of words, undoing the button of my jeans. “What is this, the 1940’s?” 

“If it was you’d probably cause a traffic accident or six wearing that little skirt out in public. Let’s go, sexy legs, don’t leave me in suspense! Try the damn thing on already!” 

“Alright, alright! Fuck!” I laugh. “Turn around first though, okay?” 

“Christ...” Eric mutters, rolling his eyes, “...women,” but he does as I say, turning around so his back is to me as I pull down my jeans. 

They’re quickly discarded in a pile on the floor and I’m stood there in my underwear, about to step into the skirt, when I catch Eric glancing over his shoulder at me. 

“I told you not to look!” 

“I wasn’t!” he lies, turning back around. 

I pull the skirt the rest of the way up and to my surprise it fits almost perfectly. “Okay, you can look now.” 

Turning back around to face me, Eric lets out a loud wolf whistle. “Oh very nice, very nice indeed.” 

“Yeah right.” Feeling myself start to blush, I do up the zip at the back. “I bet I look like a fucking hooker in this thing...” 

“Maybe so, but a high class hooker,” he replies, eyeing me up and down with a smile. “The cowboy hat really adds a subtle hint of elegance to the ensemble. Come on Julia Roberts, give me a quick twirl.” 

I spin around, surprised to find myself enjoying a bit of an ego boost. 

“Damn, you look great! Maybe lose the shirt though,” he suggests, pausing to bite down on his lower lip. “I wanna see what you look like with just the skirt and cowboy hat on...” 

“And you think Becky’s the one whose been smoking crack?” I ask incredulously, laughing and shaking my head at the very suggestion. “Dream on, Harris!” 

“Oh come on,” Eric urges, tottering dangerously between serious and playful. “Indulge me. I’ve been having a rough couple of days. I need to see some tits to lift my spirits.” 

“I might be able to help you out there actually,” I tell him, suppressing the urge to laugh. 

“Oh yeah?” he says, a slow eager smirk playing on his lips, provoking a reaction in me far more intense than I could have possibly anticipated. Something primal. Something animalistic. And once again that sudden need for him threatens to take over. 

That smile though, that smile could charm the pants off a damn nun... 

Reminding myself where we are, I once again force my mind from the gutter - rescuing it from the avalanche of less than pious thoughts threatening to fall upon me. 

Feeling his eyes burning a hole in my back, I walk back over to my side of the altar, spotting the twenty-five year old issue of Playboy still laying on the ground where I’d left it. 

“I did find something kind of interesting among all this old junk.” 

The magazine is promptly retrieved from the ground as Eric walks around the altar to meet me. 

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” 

I very deliberately glance down at the magazine before offering it over to him. 

Eric takes it from me, looking down at the cover with a quick raise of his eyebrows and a low whistle. 

“Holy shit,” he mutters, chuckling softly as he begins to flip through if. “I can’t believe you were looking at porn. Damn... just when I thought you couldn’t get any cooler.” 

Moving to stand next to him, I watch with wry amusement as he slowly turns each page, eyes widening every so often as they scan the contents. 

“Would you look at the bush on-.”

“That’s exactly what I thought,” I laughingly interrupt him. “It is from the ‘70’s though, so I guess that’s to be expected.”

“Even so, that shit could use a fucking weed-whacker.” Eric turns the magazine to the side as to better examine it, not unlike I had done myself a minute or so before. “I mean Goddamn...” 

“Do you think someone thought it’d be funny to donate it?” I ask, resting a hand on his arm, continuing to peer down at the magazine. 

“I don’t know,” he says, eyes glued to the page in front of him. “What I do know is that it’s kind of hot that you were looking at this.”

“I was just looking for the horoscopes,” I reply defensively. 

“Sure you were, pervert.” Eric grins, looking far too pleased with himself as he discards the magazine atop the altar. 

“Jesus! First I catch your peeping Tom ass watching me jacking off through my bedroom window, now I find you reading porn... in a damn church no less!” 

Eric shakes his head disapprovingly, attempting to look serious, but the effect is promptly ruined when a loud burst of laughter suddenly escapes him. “I think you might have a problem, Lucy,” he tells me. “I think you might be... a sexaholic.” 

“Or I’m secretly a lesbian and I’m going to leave you for Becky some day soon...” 

“You better fucking not be,” he plays along, laughing as his eyes travel downward - scanning my legs as he speaks. “I’d hate for Becky to mysteriously go missing...” 

“There’s a fucking lie if I ever heard one,” I laugh, reclaiming the magazine from the top of the altar. “Now, do you wanna know what your horoscope says or not?”

“I’m more interested in the tits,” Eric admits with a shrug of his shoulders. “If I’m being perfectly honest.”

“Now who’s the pervert?” I start to flip through it, searching for the horoscope page I’d briefly glimpsed right before he walked in. 

“Pretty sure it’s still you, little miss porn lovin’ peeping Tom.” 

I try to ignore him, but I laugh despite myself, continuing to flip through the magazine. 

“Or maybe it is me,” he concedes, resting a hand on the small of my back. “Cause all I really want in life right now is to see you prancing around in that little leather skirt and that little leather skirt only...” 

“Yeah, well, I want to be married to Brad Pitt,” I tell him, “but that’s probably not going to happen either, so...” 

“Then that’s his fucking loss, isn’t it? Jennifer Appleton ain’t got nothing on you, Lucy Goosey.” 

“It’s Aniston,” I inform him, looking back up with a smile. 

“It’s irrelevant,” he replies, soothingly rubbing his hand up and down the length of my back. “You get what I’m driving at.” 

“I get that you’re full of shit.” 

Finding the page, I trail my finger down the length of it, quickly scanning each section for Eric’s star sign at the top. “Let’s see, where’s your one...” 

“Who cares? Those things are total bogus anyway. There’s no such thing as astrology.” 

“It’s just a bit of fun. You don’t have to take everything so seriously.” 

“Alright, sleaze-ball,” he sighs, pretending to repent as he reaches over to play with a strand of my hair. “Tell me what my future holds. I bet my left nut that it’s wrong.”

“God, you are such an Aries, Eric.” 

I look back up, amused to find him rolling his eyes at me. “Mmm, this says you will soon go on a strange trip.”

“See? I told you it was bullshit. Me going anywhere isn’t very fucking likely, now is it? Not since my Dad’s bitch ass decided to ground me into infinity anyway...” 

“Your horoscope suggests otherwise.” 

“Yeah, well, my horoscope can suck my big fat dick,” Eric scoffs, waving a hand dismissively. “Astrology is about as real as the damn Loch Ness monster.” 

“Oh don’t be so stupid, Eric. You know damn well Nessie is real.” 

“I...” Eric stares at me wordlessly. “You’re shitting me, right?” 

I decide to take it a step further, if only for my own entertainment. “Is the Earth flat? Of course I’m not shitting you...”

“Please tell me you’re just saying this stuff to piss me off,” he pleads, a look of quiet desperation in his eyes, “and not because you actually believe it.” 

“Me?” I clasp a hand to my chest, feigning shock. “Never. It’s such a shame our plan to run away together fell through though, otherwise we could have gone to Scotland and found out for certain...” 

“That is a shame.” Eric sighs, leaning up against the side of the huge marble altar top. “I would have loved to go searching for it with you. Maybe we could have even gone to Ireland to catch a leprechaun or two while we were at it.”

“That would have been awesome,” I agree with a smile. “If only your dumb ass didn’t royally fuck that up for us...” 

“Oh shut up,” he laughs, trying and failing to shoot me a dirty look. “I’m paying the price for it with my total lack of freedom, aren’t I?” 

“I guess so,” I reply, well aware of the tinge of sadness seeping out in my voice as I do. 

“You know, I have seen a fairy before,” he informs me, face serious as the grave. 

I take the bait, naively thinking I’m about to receive a compliment. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah... his name is Brooks Brown!” 

I roll my eyes so hard I’m surprised I don’t strain one of the muscles, but Eric grins, putting a hand up for a high-five - looking so adorably dorky and proud of himself that I can’t help but smile as I bring a hand up, slapping it against his own. 

“You need to stop being so mean, Eric. You need to be good and make things right if you’re ever going to get into Heaven.” 

“Oh fuck that! You think I wanna spend eternity siting on a cloud, listening to a fat baby playing a harp? Pfft! No thanks!” 

“A fat baby?” I can’t help but laugh at that. “I think you mean a cherub?” 

“Fat baby, cherub, tomato, potato, it’s all the same to me. I have no interest in going to Heaven, Lucy. None of the interesting people are gonna be there.” 

“What about me, huh, what if I get into Heaven?” 

Eric furrows his brow, pretending to consider the possibility for a second or two. “Don’t worry, if you do I’ll show up at the pearly gates with an army of demons at my back and bust you out.” 

“How very considerate of you.” I bat him in the arm with the now rolled up magazine. “Thank you.” 

Under the watchful eye of a dozen stained-glass saints staring down from overhead, Eric and I stand together at the top of the pretty old church. Finally alone, finally together - and how fitting it seems to find ourselves reunited here in a place like this - a sacred place, a place of worship and devotion.

“You should probably start sinning more often though, just in case,” Eric lets out a soft sigh, the smallest of smirks playing on his lips. “Hell won’t be half as fun without you, baby.” 

Once again I find myself completely taken aback at what a profound change in mood his presence has upon me. 

This morning, today felt like it would be an agonizing never ending trek through Hell itself, but now it seems a far more manageable undertaking - almost a joy - just because he’s here with me. And as bleak and uncertain as the future may be, at least there’s some hope when I’m with him. 

“I think I’ve sinned enough for one lifetime... baby.” 

“Been a bad girl, have you?” Eric’s cocks an eyebrow, smile morphing into one of pure mayhem. “What devious thoughts are rattling around that pretty little head of yours? You’re safe here. You can tell Father Harris...” 

“Refresh my memory, Father,” I reply, a wide involuntary grin etched upon my lips,” lust is one of the seven deadly sins, isn’t it?”

“Why, yes, yes it is.”

My heart skips a beat as Eric strides forward, closing in the last bit of distance between us. 

“Tell me, my child, are you struggling with deviant thoughts? Are you imagining yourself being held down and ravished ‘til your toes curl and your eyes roll back in your head?”

I have to look away from him - casting my gaze over to the large statue of the Virgin Mary stood atop a pillar in the corner of the room. If he looks me in the eye, he’ll know the effect his words are having on me and I can’t have that. 

“I asked you a question.” 

When I don’t respond quickly enough, he grows impatient - omitting a heavy sigh as he grabs the lower half of my face in his hand, turning it so I’m forced to look at him.

“Ow, what are you doing, you bastard?” I cry out, in surprise more than anything else. 

“What the fuck did you just say?” Eric demands, suddenly all business - voice stern and authoritative, eyes piercing and intense. 

“I... I said what are you doing, you bastard...” I reply confused and somewhat hesitantly. 

Eric just frowns, slowly shaking his head back and fourth. “This just won’t do, Lucy.” 

“What the hell are you taking about?” 

“I’ll tell you what I’m talking about,” he snaps, eyes widening, gripping my face even tighter in his hand - fingers digging almost painfully into the skin beneath. “A good little catholic girl like you shouldn’t be swearing...” 

“Oh fuck you, Eric,” I smile, batting his hand away from my face. 

He surprises me then by grabbing my wrist in his hand, just a little too tightly to be considered comfortable. 

“Oh you will,” he assures me, expression significantly darker than it was just moments before. “You’re going to have to repent for this, Lucy. I’m going to have you down on your knees all night long...” 

Eric lets out a quick laugh, eyelids heavy as he leans in towards me - face inches from my own - warm breath against my skin. “Only you aren’t going to be praying....” 

I try to respond, I truly do, but the words get stuck in my throat. 

That’s when Eric saves me the trouble, taking my face between both hands and kissing me harshly - lips fiercely pressed against my own for a few long tantalizing seconds before he releases me. “And the only God you’re going to be praising is me....”

I can only look at him wordlessly, mouth agape as he pulls away from me. His voice is an aphrodisiac all in itself and his words could very well be my undoing. 

Eric just stands there, eyeing me like a lion stalking its prey, a devilish smirk dancing on his lips - and all I want to do is rip his clothes off here and now, but I can only nod my head in response, too overcome with sudden arousal to even attempt to articulate a verbal reply. 

My stunned silence just seems to amuse him further - a beautiful stream of laughter spilling from his lips as he wraps his arms around my waist. “You really are something else, you know that, Lucy Goosey?”

“I’d have to be to put up with your bullshit, wouldn’t I?” I joke, trying to ignore the illicit effect his words and body in such close proximity to mine is having. He can tell though, I know he can and somehow that just makes it worse, or better - depending on how you want to look at it. 

“I think it’s time for you to confess your sins,” he says, softly brushing a rouge strand of hair back behind my ear. “We need to cleanse that filthy soul of yours...” 

“What about your soul?” I ask, torn between amusement and mounting desire as we stand before a large marble slab of altar. 

“I’m perfectly happy with my soul just the way it is, thank you very much,” he tells me, leaning in and brushing his nose against mine - and clasping my hands behind his neck, I’m smiling from ear to ear. 

Hazel eyes bore into mine, their usual magnetic intensity and once again, I’m swept up in him completely - marveling at the power of this strange, strange spell he’s managed to cast upon me. 

Eric bites down on his lower lip - that all too familiar glint of impending trouble in his eyes - and suddenly my knees are weak and my legs have all the consistency of a bowl of jello. 

“Now be a good little catholic girl and get ready to confess your sins to Father Harris...” 

Sliding the door of the small wooden panel across, I peer in through the gated window at Eric sat on the other side. This is so fucking dumb, I think to myself, until he says; “Hello there, my child.”

And I can’t help smiling. “Hello Father,” 

“How long has it been since your last confession?” 

“Fuck knows.”

Eric snickers quietly on the other side of the booth before quickly getting back into character and chastising me. “No swearing, please! Now, what do you have to confess, my child? Besides the fact that you’ve got a filthy little mouth on you...” 

“I thought you liked my filthy little mouth,” I reply, trying to sound as innocent as possible. 

“Fuck...” Eric mutters the word so quietly it’s barely even audible, but I hear it and it only causes me to smile even wider. 

“I’ve sinned Father,” I tell him, sat there in the dimly lit confessional booth. “I’ve had impure thoughts about a boy I know. Dirty, sinful, carnal thoughts that leave me up half the night...” 

“And tell me, my child,” Eric pauses to clear his throat. “Have you acted on any of these thoughts?” 

“I have, Father.” 

There’s silence on he other end for a few seconds before he finally replies. “Tell me.”

“Well, the two of us can’t seem to keep our hands off of each other, that’s the problem. I think about him constantly. How happy he makes me. How good he makes me feel... especially when he’s inside me.” 

“Oh yeah?” Eric replies from the other side of the booth, voice a little huskier than usual. “Go on...”

“Yeah,” I reply, nodding my head even though he can’t see me. “I think about that a lot actually... I crave it. I crave him. Almost constantly.” 

“Damn,” Eric replies - stretching the word out into three or four syllables. “He must fuck you real good, huh?” 

That immediately has me laughing again. “What kind of priest would ask a question like that?!” I gasp, feigning horror.

“A fucking horny one!” There’s a loud and sudden bang on the wall separating us - causing me to jump up a little on the wooden bench beneath me in surprise. “Jesus Christ, Lucy, if you keep talking like that I’m going to have get in there with you and rip your damn clothes off with my teeth...”

“Oh really?” I reply nonchalantly, but I can feel my cheeks flushing pink and the pressure between my legs starting to build. 

“Really,” he tells me simply. “I’m gonna rattle you like a damn change purse in a second... you can keep the cowboy hat on though.”

Stifling a laugh, I lean down to peek at him through the little gated window between us, finding him also leaning down and peering back at me. “You’re not a very good priest, you know.” 

“That’s for sure,” Eric agrees, a round of soft and lovely laugher tumbling from his lips. “I’ve actually had my own fair share of impure thoughts about this girl I know. My perverted little fantasies are really all I have now that I’m trapped in my bedroom most of the time...” 

“Tell me about her.” 

I anticipate his response to be filthy or at least mildly provocative, but Eric - true to form - is full of surprises. “Well for starters, there isn’t a single square inch of her that I don’t like. The softness of her skin, the curves of her hips, the way her body feels in my arms when I’m holding her... and the way she says my name... fuck! It’s everything. Holy fucking shit.... It’s everything... I’m not just in love with her, I’m hopelessly infatuated with her.” 

Meeting him was like waking from a nightmare I didn’t even know I was in. Maybe this is a dream, it certainly feels like it. 

“You’re just trying to get laid again, aren’t you?” 

“Is it working?” he asks and I can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he does. 

I swallow a lump in my throat, shifting slightly on the wooden bench beneath me. 

Rip my clothes off with his teeth, he’d said, hold me down and ravish me ‘til my toes curl and my eyes roll back in my head. “Oh God, yeah...” 

“Fuck God, you’re the one who should be worshipped, Lucy. You’re a damn Goddess in your own right... my Goddess.” 

It’s suddenly all too much. His words, his voice, the thin wooden panel separating us and the overpowering desire to lose myself - to unravel completely - in those arms once again. I just want to feel something. Something good. Something better than the steady onslaught of worry, dread and anxiety of the past week.

Neither one of us needs to articulate the thought. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife and both of us know what’s about to happen next. 

Eric opens the door to his section of the confessional with what sounds like a kick of his boot. Seconds later, he rips the door of mine open - smirking with an almost ravenous glint in his eye. “And your thighs are fucking perfect, might I add.” 

“Get in here,” I tell him, “now,” but I’m just as impatient as he is, grabbing a handful of his shirt, quickly pulling him inside - where the two of us soon become nothing but a mess of hands and lips and scorching desire. 

Eric pushes me up against the wall of the confessional booth, pinning me there, staring at me with a devious smirk and an expression the embodiment of trouble itself. 

In an instant his lips find my neck, planting a slow tantalizing trail of kisses up the length of it and in this moment I am merely putty in his skilled and loving hands - marveling at how easy it is to succumb. Far far too easy sometimes. 

He is exhilaration, he is serenity and if loving him like this, so purely, so totally and completely that it eclipses everything else, then I’d happily burn in Hell for eternity - just for the Devine privilege of moments like this. Some otherworldly creature come into my life to ease my tortured mind and lift my heavy heart - or at least temporarily distract me from the chaos and uncertainty of the outside world. 

“You are so damn sexy, you know,” I sigh between kisses, happy, dazed and so fucking horny I can barely even think straight. 

“I know,” he sarcastically replies, fingertips gently ghosting up along my inner thigh, making my mouth fall open ever so slightly at the feeling. “I’ll never understand how a total stud like me wasn’t drowning in pussy before we met...” 

“Neither will I,” I tell him, bringing a hand to rest on the back of his neck, pulling his face to mine - eyes fluttering closed as our mouths crash together. 

Eric’s lips are warm and soft, pressed against my own and in each kiss I lose myself, I come undone, just a little more. The outside word disappears and the universe itself shrinks down to me, him and this confession booth we’ve sinfully chosen to defile. 

“What do you think our good buddy Jesus would have to say about this, huh?” he asks, voice low and throaty, sliding his hand up beneath my skirt. 

“Well, we’re married,” I reply a little breathlessly. “So, I think he’d be cool with it.” 

“Right,” he chuckles, pressing down a little harder, starting to trace a small circular pattern through the thin material of my underwear with his fingers. “I’m sure he’d understand. You’re only fulfilling your wifely duties after all...”

“Oh fuck,” a soft involuntary moan escapes me at the sensation. 

“You like that?” 

“It’s okay, I guess...” 

Eric starts to laugh, but if the look on his face is any indication, he immediately takes the remark as a challenge. “Just okay, huh?” 

I’m quickly shoved up against the wall again, where he takes both my wrists in hand, pinning them above my head. 

Grinding his hips against mine, Eric promptly shoves his tongue into my mouth and feeling him pressed against my thigh as he kisses me, knowing he’s just as eager and worked up as I am, only fuels me all the more. 

All too familiar with my weak spots, he starts kissing my neck again, fingers rubbing rapidly though the thin cotton barrier of my underwear as he pins my wrists above me - and now all restraint and self control has gone out the window. 

“How does that feel?” he murmurs, studying my face, fingers busying themselves beneath my skirt. 

“Good...” 

Eric licks his lips, staring down at my own and the fact that my knees haven’t buckled beneath me already seems nothing short of miraculous. 

“Just good?” 

“So fucking good,” I moan, unable to help myself, because it does and every thrust of his fingers only seems to make me unravel a little more.

A small satisfied smirk on his face, Eric finally releases my wrists, allowing my arms to drop down to my sides - my hands may be free, but his body still has mine pressed up against the wall. 

Then he brings that same hand up to my neck, gently choking me with one hand, roughly massaging me through a thin layer of fabric with the other. “Do you know what the French call an orgasm?” he asks, practically growling the words in my ear. 

I know we shouldn’t be doing this. I know damn well we shouldn’t, but it’s hard to exercise any self control when every fiber of my being is begging me to touch him, to let him keep touching me... to have him fuck me within an inch of my sanity. 

“La petite mort,” he says softly, hazel eyes staring straight through me, peering right down into my soul, or at least that’s how it feels. “It means a little death...” 

He kisses me and yet again I find myself marveling at how seamlessly we seem to meld together in one another’s arms. 

Eric’s tongue parts my lips, slipping into my mouth as his fingers find their way beneath the material of my underwear. 

“What do you say, Lucy?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper as he slides a finger inside me. “Wanna die a little?”

“Oh fuck yeah...” Taking his face in my hands, bringing our lips together, I kiss him with as much passion as I can muster. 

Then he adds a second finger, laughing as I pull away from him, burying my face in the material of his shirt, already moaning his name. 

“You like that alright,” he chuckles, sounding very pleased with himself as he quickens the pace with his fingers. 

“Oh shut up,” I tell him, resting my hands on his shoulders, but I’m moaning the words and that only causes him to laugh even more. 

“God, so fucking wet for me already,” he sighs, suddenly tightening his grip on my throat. “You know, I think it’s time we put that filthy little mouth of yours to good use...”

“What ever do you mean?” I ask, batting my eyelashes, the picture of innocence with his fingers inside of me, his hand lovingly wrapped around my throat. 

“I think you know,” he says, and of course I do, but I still want him to say it. 

When I don’t reply, he rolls his eyes and seizes my face in his hands, staring at me seriously as opposed to kissing me this time. 

“I want you on your knees.”

“Excuse me?” I reply a little weakly, poorly attempting to pretend his words aren’t working me up into a lust fueled frenzy inside, but as always, he can tell, I know he can tell. 

Eric’s eyes don’t leave mine as he reaches down, slowly unbuckling his belt, pulling down the zipper of his jeans. “I’m sorry, did I fucking stutter?” 

I watch as he swiftly tugs both his jeans and boxers down in one fluid motion, letting them fall to the ground where they pool around his feet. “I said on your knees. Now. Don’t make me tell you again.” 

Part of me wants to argue with him, to tell him how incredibly disrespectful he’s being right now, but that’s only part of me and the dominant part wants nothing more than to give him exactly what he wants, so wordlessly, I drop down to my knees. 

He’s already hard and a soft sigh escapes him as I take him in my hand, slowly beginning to jerk him off. 

Then Eric throws his head back, where it collides hard against the wooden paneling behind him. “Ow!” 

“You okay?” I snicker, glancing up at him. 

“I’d feel a lot better if you shut the fuck up and just put my damn dick in your mouth already...” 

“I’ll bite it clean off if you keep speaking to me like that,” I warn him, but I’ve already started to pick up the pace a little with my hand. 

“You know you love it, Lucy. Don’t pretend you don’t.” Eric lets out a quick laugh, low and menacing - licking his lips as he stares down at me. “Now back to work.” 

I hate myself for admitting it, but he’s right, part of me does love it. There’s a perverse little part of me that gets a real kick out of him treating me like this. 

I wrap my hand around the base of his cock, licking slow teasing circles around the head before enveloping it beneath my lips, alternating between jerking and sucking him off while enjoying the steady trail of profanity coming from his mouth. 

“Good girl... just like that...” Eric runs his fingers back through my hair, holding it in a ponytail at the base of my neck, gently tugging on it every so often. “Fuck, Lucy...” 

I glance up at him, examining what I can see of his smug facial expression in the dimly lit confessional booth. He’s loving this, that much is evident. He’s loving the feeling of being in control, of doing something like this in a place where we shouldn’t be doing it. 

“Fuck, that feels so fucking good...” Eric groans and that sound alone would be enough to render me dizzy with my own desire. “Just like that...” 

After a minute or two, his grunts and moans become more frequent, the sound of his breathing getting progressively heavier as I continue to blow him.

Tightening his grip on my hair, Eric lets out a deep groan, head falling back again as I glance up at him. “Fuck, Lucy... hold on... I’m gonna fucking cum in a second if you keep doing that...” 

I only take that as a cue to speed up, taking as much of him into my mouth as I can, hand pumping up and down the length of him at a much more rapid rate. 

“No, wait... stop...” Eric pants, chest heaving as he stares down at me kneeling in front of him. “Get up... I want to fuck you.” 

Becky could come back any second. Douchebag McGoatee could arrive back earlier than expected and catch us right in the middle of the act. I’m vaguely aware of these possible scenarios, but those thoughts are forced to sit on the back burner - because nothing that feels this good could be wrong and right now I’m too turned on to give a shit if the Pope himself walks in and opens this door.

“Anything you want, Reb.” I tell him exactly what I know he wants to hear, too overwhelmed and eager to say anything else as I take the hand offered down to me, quickly rising to my feet. 

“Damn,” Eric sighs, eyeing me beneath heavy eyelids, expression a healthy mixture of arousal and amusement. “Now that’s more fucking like it!” 

“So,” I decide to pose the question. “How are we going to go about doing this?” 

“I could fuck you up against the wall,” he suggests, seeming to quite like the idea. “Leave some diamond shaped imprints on your ass from that little gate on the window...” 

“You think you’re going to be able to hold me up for seven whole minutes?” I scoff. “Get real, man.”

“Hey! That’s not fair! I lasted a good fifteen minutes last time we fucked and you know it!” Eric quickly retorts, sounding offended. “The best fifteen minutes of your life too... by the fucking sound of it.”

“Will we shoot for the moon and aim for twenty minutes this time?” I tease. 

“Don’t go having all these crazy expectations of me, woman, damn!” Eric laughs. 

“It was pretty good though,” I admit, smiling at the memory, reaching down to knot my fingers through his. 

“You bet your ass it was,” Eric sighs, squeezing my hand as he eyes the wall to my back. “Maybe you’re right though, maybe we should find a better position... not that I wouldn’t be able to hold you up the entire time if I wanted to,” he insists, “I could fuck you right though the damn wall if I had a mind to.”

“I’m sure you could,” I agree with a smile. “What position were you thinking then, Hercules?” 

“Bück dich,” Eric suggests, lips turning up into a grin, nothing short of pure unadulterated mayhem in his eyes. 

“I was listening to Rammstein on the way over here,” I’m suddenly compelled to tell him. “It made me think about you. Becky wasn’t really into it though. I-.”

“Do you really have to talk about her right now?” Eric sighs, hanging his head. “Come on, Lucy. Don’t scare my boner away!” 

“Why are you so fucking mean to Becky?” I try to sound serious, a little annoyed even, but he sees right though it - knows full well I couldn’t give a single solitary shit about anything but him right now - not here in this shrunken down universe of a confessional booth. 

“I think the better question is why the fuck are you still jabbering on about Gretchen when you could be kissing me right now?” 

“Oh screw you-.”

“Screw you right the hell back,” he cuts me off, then he’s kissing me again, tongues battling for dominance, hands roaming, groping, exploring - every touch every moan, sending shocks of electricity through me - only adding fuel to an already roaring fire. 

“You ready?” he asks, my back to him, one hand rested on my hip, the other positioning himself between my legs. 

My own hands are spread out on the wooden wall in front of me, underwear down around my ankles, little red skirt pushed up around my waist. “Yes...” 

“You want me to fuck you?” His fingers dig a little deeper into my hip, teasingly rubbing the head of his cock against me, but not yet putting it in, oh no, he intends to draw this out a little longer. 

“Yes.” 

“Say it,” he demands, taking it upon himself to bring a hand down hard against my ass, spanking me. 

“Oww, you dick!” I groan, wincing slightly at the pain. “I said I want you to fuck me!” 

Eric pretends to consider it for a second or two as though he’s not holding a raging erection in his hand. “Maybe you should beg,” he suggests, gently rubbing the same tender skin he just spanked. “You’re real fucking cute when you beg...” 

“Fine,” I sigh, rolling my eyes, torn between annoyance over him spanking me so hard and the fervent hope that he’ll do it again. “Please.”

“Please what?” 

“Please get on with it before I turn around and slap the shit out of you!” I snap impatiently. 

“Jesus!” Eric sighs exasperatedly. “Keep talking to me like that and you won’t be getting fucked at all!” 

The two of us start to laugh and the sound rings out loudly around us in the small wooden booth. I stand up straight, turning around to face him, grinning from ear to ear as he leans in, silencing our laughter with his lips. 

Coiling my arms around him, I close my eyes, trying to savor this moment, the sound of that soft easy laughter, the feeling of those lips, as long as possible. 

“God, Eric...” 

“Call me Reb,” he says, reaching down to grab a handful of my ass. “Say please fuck me, Reb.” 

“Please fuck me, Reb. I’m begging.”

“Alright.” He grins, nodding his head, pausing for just a second to bite down on his lower lip. “Just don’t tell Eric about this, okay? I hear that guy is a total fucking psycho...”

“I won’t breath a word of it,” I laughingly assure him, holding his face in my hands, staring into his eyes, feeling my heart swell in my chest as he smiles at me. “Now hurry up and fuck me, we don’t have long.” 

And so he does, turning me around again, omitting a low groan as he finally thrusts himself inside of me - slow at first, almost teasing. 

He quickly picks up the pace, fingers digging into the soft skin of my hips - showering me with breathless declarations of devotion, lovingly uttered between between moans and groans of profanity. And I am so enamored, so aroused by him, that every cry and moan I manage to pull from his lips makes my heart pound. 

Like a gentleman or maybe just as a matter of pride, he lets me finish first, riding out the brunt of my orgasm with his hand clamped over my mouth. And I’m thankful for his grip on me when I finally come back down from the high, legs nearly giving out from under me, body suddenly growing limp as a rag doll in his arms. 

That’s when I’m rudely brought back to reality at what sounds like a car pulling up outside. Eric either doesn’t register it or simply doesn’t care, only fucking me all the harder when I let out a loud gasp of surprise. 

“Hold on! Fuck! Did that sound like a car pulling up outside?!” 

“I don’t know,” he groans, only gripping my body harder in his hands, holding onto me for dear life with every rampant thrust of his hips, “and I don’t give a flying fuck either...” 

“I do,” I protest, slowly starting to regain my senses, propping myself up against the wall and making a determined effort to think straight with my eyes rolling back in my head. “It’s probably Becky!” 

“Oh fuck her,” Eric grunts, resting a hand on the small of my back, only intensifying his pace, despite my concerns. 

“Eric...” I attempt to tell him to stop, but the way he moves his hips has him hitting a new angle entirely and it feels fucking incredible. “We shouldn’t... oh fuck!” 

“Doesn’t sound like you want me to stop...” 

“No... I do...” I halfheartedly protest, admittedly not really wanting him to. “Come on... it’s not going to be good if she catches us...”

“She won’t,” he assures me, slowing down just a little, but still bucking his hips against me at a fairly rapid speed. “Can we please keep going? I’m so fucking close...”

I consider putting my foot down, but by this point my better judgment has already upped and walked out of the building and besides, it feels fucking amazing and I don’t really want him to stop either.

“You better fucking make it quick...” 

“I can do that, but I’m going to need you to be quiet though, alright?” 

Clamping a hand down over my mouth, Eric starts to thrust much faster and harder than before. 

And inside of the confessional, a beautiful blasphemous symphony plays; the rapidly intensifying sound of his breathing as he gets closer, the soft wet sounds of skin on skin and my own long drawn out moans, muffled by his fingers - it all mingles in the air, washing over me, creating a perverted sinful soundtrack to accompany our tryst. 

That’s when we hear the distinct sound of the church door opening and Becky’s voice loudly announcing; “Lucy! I got sandwiches!” 

Our time is up and we both know we can only push our luck so far. After hurriedly springing apart, the two of us quickly begin readjusting our clothes in the small sweaty confessional booth. 

“I can’t believe this shit,” Eric mutters irritatedly, tucking himself back into his boxers. “I didn’t even get to cum for fuck’s sake.”

Redoing the buttons of my shirt, I can’t help but laugh at him. “I’ll take care of you later.”

“Promise?” 

“I promise,” I tell him, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on his lips. 

“Fuck you, Gretchen,” he sighs, kissing me back before reaching down to pull up his jeans. 

“Her name is Becky,” I remind him for the fiftieth time, shaking my head as I readjust my skirt so that it’s actually covering me. “You know damn well her name is Becky.” 

“I know she’s a cock-blocking, mole rat loving bitch,” Eric replies in an annoyed tone of voice. “That’s what I know.”

I stumble out of the confessional first, smoothing down the front of my shirt, quickly spotting Becky stood at the top of the altar with her back to us. 

“Okay, the coast is clear,” I whisper, right before Eric tumbles out of the booth after me, clutching the cowboy hat in his right hand - brow damp with sweat, cheeks lightly flushed. 

“Down here, Becky!” I call out. 

Becky spins around, now stood up at the top of the church where she’d left me earlier. “There you are, Lucy!” 

Eric lets out a heavy groan as Becky hurries down the isle to meet us. 

“We could have just snuck out of here when she wasn’t looking you know....” 

“No, we couldn’t have,” I disagree, frowning at him. “I’m the one who brought her here. That would be such an asshole move.” 

“So what? We are assholes.” 

“Speak for yourself, Harris,” I tell him, that’s when I happen to glance down, gasping when I notice the sizable bulge in his pants. “Um... you might want to do something about-.”

“Oh Jesus,” Eric mutters, making the sudden and strategic move of placing the cowboy hat down over his crotch - much to my amusement. 

Becky pauses a few feet away from the confessional we just stumbled out of, eyeing the two of us with a distinct look of surprise. 

“Hi Eric,” she says flatly, clearly just as pleased to see him as he was when he found out she was here. “I didn’t know you were coming.” 

“That’s a shame,” Eric sighs. “If you did you could have hung around outside for a couple of minutes and let me finish...”

“What do you mean?” Becky asks, confused. “Finish what?” 

“Ow!” Eric groans in response to the elbow that’s instantly sent flying towards his arm. “Nothing...I um... I actually have to go get something from my car real quick... Lucy... uh... would you mind coming with me?” 

“You sure it’s not something you could go get on your own?” 

“Well, I guess I could, but I seem to remember you promising you’d give me a hand earlier, so...” 

Fighting the grin threatening to spread across my face, I turn to look at Becky, determined to try to keep my demeanor as serious as possible. “We’ll just be five minutes, is that alright?”

“More like ten,” Eric chimes in, shooting me a look of immediate offense I have to try very hard not to laugh at. 

“Alright,” Becky nods, not seeming to suspect that anything is up in the slightest, even though the two of us are sweaty and disheveled and Eric is currently holding a cowboy hat over his crotch. “You guys go ahead.” 

Eric takes my hand in his, smiling like the cat that’s got the cream as he practically drags me towards the entrance - cowboy hat soon discarded on the ground in front of a large statue of our alleged Lord and savior.

“Actually, we might be more like fifteen!” I call back over my shoulder, just as Eric pushes open the huge mahogany door leading out into the parking lot. 

“I might need a cigarette or two while I’m out there!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized that Becky pulled up outside in a car even though Lucy drove them there. Was Becky hitchhiking to a nearby Subway, or did she snake Lucy’s car keys right out from under her? 
> 
> I’ll let you decide which one you think it is. It certainly isn’t a continuity error on my part though, I’ll tell you that much...


End file.
